Ways of the Dragonborn: The Genius (2)
by Samuel Keller
Summary: Among the ranks of the simple and average, one will stand above all. Not for their might or power, but their mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Now, this is new territory for me. Up until now I have had mainly male characters and such. But this is a twist. That's right. I am having a main female protagonist. Bear with it until the end of the chapter.**

On her fourteenth birthday, Averil stated she would become a mage.

Her father, prejudice as always, refused immediately. He did not want his little girl to be like the local mage Falion who everyone accused of necromancy. She knew this was garbage information, herself joining him to his daily tasks. But her father stuck to his superstitions.

"That necromancer is nothing but trouble" he stated when she brought his name that same evening. "He dabbles in dark magic, and you will go nowhere near him."

"Fine" she replied getting slightly angry. "Then I'll train with someone else."

"No you won't" her father stated getting angry himself. "I need someone else to help on the farm. I know you hate it, but I need your help."

They ran a farm on the edge of Morthal's borders. It grew the food that supplied a good chunk of the village and was essential in the town's survival.

"Father" objected her brother. "I can run the farm by myself. Besides my friend Sheridan can work here too when he gets here."

Averil smiled. Her older brother, always helping his little sister.

Father looked thoughtful. On one hand he wanted his daughter to be happy. On the other, he hated magic in every form.

"Fine" he concluded waving his hand. "But I'm sending you to Winterhold, to the College. I'll give you two months to get a rough understanding of magic beforehand. If you aren't ready by then, you're forbidden."

Averil grinned and hugged him tight. "Thank you!"

Father allowed himself a small smile. If only she knew how hard magic really was.

So for two months she didn't even touch a rake or shovel. Instead she was cramming as much information and experience in her head as she could. She used all her gold to buy spell tomes from Falion, who promised to not tell her father she had talked to him.

She was reading a new book today, an Alteration book that was supposed to teach something called Magelight.

"You must imagine pure light emitting from your being" she read aloud to herself. "Then force it out of your hand." She rolled her eyes. Why must these mages explain things so philosophically?

She put the book down and prepared the magicka. As a Breton her natural magic abilities were far greater then anyone else. Except Altmer maybe.

She put the picture of pure light into her head and let it flow as her magicka shaped it in her hands. When she believed it was satisfactory, she let it go.

The light was about the size of a fist and quivered unevenly. She let her head drop. Pathetic.

"Hey, mage!" declared a voice from nowhere.

She turned and saw a stranger standing on the road to Morthal. He wore a cowl over his head, so she couldn't get any features from his face.

"Keep practicing and you'll have something that could light the darkest dungeon!" the man yelled encouragingly.

She smiled. A complete stranger offering praise? Something new everyday.

His partner next to him smacked upside the head and yelled something at him. It sounded like "don't blow our cover". The partner wore a set of iron armor complete with helm. It proudly wore the horns of the Nords and he held a large sword and shield on his arms.

The man who had been smacked swore back to him and turned to keep going. Only then did she notice the tail coming from beneath his leather armor.

"A Khajiit" she whispered to herself. "I've been complimented by a Khajiit."

Ever quickly, the deadline approached. Her father looked at her across the dining table and asked on question: "How many spells do you know?"

"Ten father" she replied nervous about his answer.

Her father shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Victory!" Averil yelled at the top of her voice.

Her brother was laughing for five minutes straight.

On that same day she got up on the carriage to her new home. Her mother was there with tears in her eyes.

"Oh baby, why do you have to go?" she asked saddened to the point of breaking down.

She held her mother's hand and answered, "Because this was the way it was meant to be."

Her mother moved away with a nod and a sniffle. "Don't forget to write!" she reminded/ordered.

Averil nodded and her brother approached. In his hands he held a large amulet.

"Take this" he said handing it to her. "To remind you of home."

She examined it. It was made of simple string, but the pendant was the symbol of Morthal made of ruby.

"It's beautiful" she stated putting it around her neck.

Her father approached holding a large staff. It was curved elegantly and topped with a dragon's head design.

"A staff of firebolts" he said offering it to her. "I had it as an old family heirloom. Ain't much use to me now."

She took it and slung it across her back. "Thank you."

The carriage driver looked at her. "Ready to go?"

She nodded and waved goodbye to her family. And to Morthal.

**Well, I think I did a decent job for my first real female character. Let me know okay?**


	2. Chapter 2

**OK, I guess this isn't my FIRST female character. My Dead Island ones still count. I guess it's just the way I'm designing her that makes her feel so different. Lack of zombies and impending death usually makes your personality different. Just look at The Walking Dead and the before and after effects of the zombies.**

Averil stood in the blistering cold of the town, wrapping her cloak around her. She had been warned it was chilly up in Winterhold, but this was freezing.

She walked through the icy streets, a lone traveler in fur cloth. She had decided at least some protection from the elements would be in order. But now she felt her preparations were extremely ineffective.

She reached the steps of the first part of the bridge to the college and stared in wonder at the sight. It towered over everything else in the town with its black stone walls and icy texture. Seeing it still standing despite the town's collapse gave her a sense of being small and insignificant.

She walked up the stairs and reached a small alcove. There was a woman standing there, and she caught Averil's eye.

"Come no closer Breton!" she ordered walking up to the novice mage. "This path is dangerous, and only I can open the gate."

Averil stood up straight despite the shivering and stated, "I want to join the college."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well it's not that surprising now that I think about it. You are a Breton after all."

She pointed to the stone circle beneath her. It was encircling the symbol of the college: An eye inside of a star.

"Cast a Fear spell, and you may proceed" the woman said backing off the circle.

Averil smiled. Just what she had practiced.

She lit the Illusion spell in her hand and pushed it onto the seal.

The woman nodded approvingly and said, "Ok then. Follow me please."

The woman activated a Magelight spell and began walking. The young mage quickly followed, wrapping the cloak tighter around her frame.

The woman began explaining the history of the college, but Averil was not listening. She was still gazing at the remarkable sight of the building itself. Tall and imposing among the snow flurries that engulfed it.

"Ah here we are" the woman said stopped in front of a round stone structure. Behind that was a golden gate with the college's symbol on it. She cast the Magelight spell at the stone and it lit to a shade of blue. The gate opened and the woman looked back at her.

"Go talk to Mirabelle Ervine. She's the Master Mage here and will help you on your journey for magic. Gods be with you."

Averil walked through the courtyard of the college, staring admirably at the design. She had never really seen much in terms of architecture at home and she was enjoying just examining the college.

"Need something?" asked a friendly voice to her left.

She turned and saw an ordinary looking woman in mage's clothes standing beside her. The woman possessed an air of peace, but also some authority when she spoke.

"I am looking for Mirabelle Ervine" stated Averil.

The woman smiled. "Hard to get closer then where you are now."

At first the Breton didn't understand, then figured it out. "Oh, well, the woman at the bridge said I had to report to you."

Mirabelle nodded. "You must be another apprentice. We seem to be getting more and more of those lately."

She adjusted a part of her mage robes and requested, "Please follow me."

They entered a small room with a large stone structure housing a blue light in the center. Hey walked a little farther in and Mirabelle turned into a room.

"This is your quarters. Please try to show some decency with your hygiene and be quiet. Most people here are doing, how shall I say, delicate experiments."

She pointed to a drawer. "In there are some mage robes and such. You are not required to wear them, however I recommend doing so."

Averil opened the door and pulled out the set of clothes. There was a pair of boots that were made of leather and were still crisp new. A large tan robe was also there along side some fur gloves and a cowl.

"I will allow you some privacy to change" the Master Mage stated walking out of the doorway.

After she had changed to more suitable attire, Averil looked at herself in the mirror. The cowl gave her face a shadow that she actually liked. The robe also flattered who she truly was, a mage.

"All done?" asked Mirabelle walking into the room. She nodded at her clothing and said, "Much more suitable for a mage. Please follow me."

They entered the courtyard again and the master pointed to a door. "That's the Hall of the Elements. Tolfdir is probably still giving the other apprentices a lesson. Just go right in and join. I hope you enjoy your stay at the college."

Averil walked into the hall and was shocked by the décor. The stones glowed from the blue light of a spell in the center of the room. Columns reached up into a ceiling that swayed beautifully with shadows.

In the far side of the hall were four people. One of them wore black robes and had grey hair that fell to his shoulders. He stood facing the others who wore simple tan robes.

She walked over to the group of three and stood next to one. He wore the robes of a mage and kept his attention on the master in front of him.

"Ah a new student" Tolfdir said smiling friendly. "I had just started a lesson. Please join in."

He turned back to the other three who Averil took notice to. The one at the far end was a Khajiit, an oddity among the mage society. His fur was a bright white and his whiskers twitched with every breath. The second was a Dunmer female, one who liked to keep her hair orderly. She stood arms crossed listening intently to Tolfdir. The one who was beside her was a Nord, a rather handsome Nord. His face was clean-shaven and his eyes remained cold.

"As I was saying previously" continued Tolfdir. "Magic, in its natural form, is volatile and dangerous. It can and will destroy you if you can't control it."

The Dunmer looked slightly annoyed. "Master, I believe I speak for us all, when saying that we all know how to control magic."

Tolfdir nodded. "Of course my dear. I have no doubt your arcane skills are at least rudimentary. What I mean is total control. Mastery of magic. It takes years, if not decades of dedication and study."

"Then what are we waiting for?" asked the Khajiit impatiently. "Let's get started."

"Please slow down!" ordered the master. "This is exactly what I'm warning against. Eagerness must be controlled with caution."

"But how do you even know our skills?" inquired the Nord. "You have no knowledge with what we can really do."

Tolfdir rubbed his temples. He turned to Averil and stated, "You have remained quiet so far. What should we do?"

She thought about it for a moment. "Learn something practical."

The master wasn't expecting this. "Is that so?"

"You see, she agrees!" exclaimed the Nord. "Come on master!"

Tolfdir raised his hands. "Alright, I'll teach you something."

He walked to a circle in the hall and stood in the exact center. "Now, I will all teach you a Ward spell. It is mainly used to block spells and such. This way we can continue with safety and still learn something."

He turned to Averil. "Do you know any Ward spells?"

She nodded. "One sir."

Tolfdir activated a fireball spell. "Good that. Now, engage the ward and keep it up."

She did just that and he launched the fireball. It hit the ward and was instantly absorbed by the magic shield.

"Nice job" complimented Tolfdir. "Now, let us see if any of your skills match hers."

The Khajiit scoffed. "J'zargo is ready."

Tolfdir nodded. "I have no doubt he is."

After they had all managed to practice the Wards, the master stated, "Ok students. Now, I believe you all are of sufficient quality in Restoration magic. However, it means no good if you can't use it in combat."

He flicked his robes back further on his wrists and said, "Meet me in the training grounds tomorrow at nine. Until then, please practice and get a good night's rest. That is all."

**Now, bear with this familiar stuff for a little. It's just to set up for the huge leap I plan later. **


	3. Chapter 3

**The Breton is personally my favorite character in this entire series, despite her humble beginnings. That'll make more sense when the others have been published.**

Averil was wakened by the sound of someone scraping something.

She sat up and looked around. No one seemed to be awake for what she could see, but the sound was ever persistent.

She got up and walked into the foyer of the hall. The sound was coming from a fellow apprentice's room.

She walked inside and saw the Khajiit, who was apparently called J'zargo, sharpening his claws. He was using a large file and did it very carefully, like surgery.

He looked up and noticed the Breton had woken. "Oh, has J'zargo woken you?"

"Half the hall is awake. They're just too polite to mention it" replied the Breton.

The feline mage smiled. "Ah, J'zargo has forgotten how fiery you humans are. Thank you for reminding him."

He put the file away and flexed his sharpened claws. "Being a Khajiit is a blessing and a curse. For one thing, everyone assumes J'zargo is a thief. That may be true. Second, J'zargo has trouble shaking hands. Always feeling odd touching only flesh."

"Why did you join the college?" asked Averil anticipating a story.

The Khajiit lied down and put his paws behind his head. "J'zargo wanted to become great, not like his father or mother. Dealing with constant persecution sounded like torture to J'zargo. So he decided to become a mage. The College of Whispers was too busy keeping their secrets to allow teaching. The colleges in Cyrodill are far too lavish for J'zargo's taste. Skyrim was not his first choice, but the College of Winterhold is dedicated to study. This is where J'zargo can become great."

The Breton looked at him. She felt a mixed feeling of respect and irritation.

"Not everything is a competition you know."

J'zargo smiled. "Clearly you say that because you are already so behind in your progress."

Before a mage fight could start, the Nord appeared with an angry look on his face. "Can both of you shut up? I'm trying to sleep for once. I know you Khajiits are nocturnal, but the majority of the people here are not. You too Breton. Believe me, all you need to know about this guy is that he cares only for himself.

"You say that like that's a bad thing" stated J'zargo smiling slyly.

"It is" snapped the Nord. "Maybe instead of speaking to yourself in third person, you can actually try your luck with magic. It's quite interesting and a better devotion to your time." And with that, he stormed off back to his room.

J'zargo wasn't slightly angered. "Ah, he talks a lot, but J'zargo is not afraid. Nords are horrible at magic anyway."

They woke up a few hours later and ate breakfast along the way to the training grounds. Because Averil had absolutely no idea where that was, they led her to it.

"So Brelyna" stated the Breton walking alongside the elf. "What's so special about these training grounds?"

The Dunmer was eager to answer. "Oh, it's a nice place to cast a few spells here and there. No buildings to blow up, no trees to torch…"

"Just ice" commented the Nord.

A moment later, Averil whispered to the elf, "What's his problem?"

Brelyna smiled. "Oh, he's a little angry that he lost his amulet. A family heirloom I believe. Odd, he said he hated his family."

They arrived at the training grounds which looked almost no different from the rest of the tundra. Only a few stones and rocks indicated it was meant to practice battle.

"Ah, J'zargo is glad to be here again" stated the Khajiit.

In the center of the stone masses was a group of six. Two of them wore the uniforms of mages and stood imposingly with the tails of their robes flickering in the wind. The rest were Stormcloak soldiers who didn't look to happy to be there.

Tolfdir stepped up and nodded at the apprentices. "I am glad you are here on time. Now, this is a very important step in your training."

He gestured to the soldiers. "These lucky gentlemen were patrolling around when I decided to hire them for some practice. Of course they will absolutely not just let you rain down blows either. It's a joint practice technique I came up with. Now please try not to kill each other."

By now both sides had there eyes wide.

Tolfdir laughed. "I apologize. I forgot to point out my other colleague. I believe some of you already know her. Colette Marence, the best Restoration mage in Skyrim. If any of you are injured too severely for your own spells, she will gladly take care of you. Correct?"

Colette nodded. "Of course. Savos really hates it when one of our apprentices gets blown up or torn in half, so I try to help."

The Alteration trainer chuckled. "Well yes you are right. Now please, begin."

No one moved for a moment. Then J'zargo said, "Ah screw it."

He lit up a Firebolt spell and tossed it at the nearest soldier.

The soldier dodged and pulled out his sword. "Biggest mistake of your life!"

Only to be hit by an Ice Spike from the Nord. He jumped onto a nearby rock and began climbing to the highest position possible.

Brelyna activated a Stoneflesh spell and was instantly surrounded in the magic armor. She flicked on dual Sparks and began charging them.

Averil was not going to be simply the novice in all this. She flicked on a Conjuration spell and yelled, "Summon atronach!"

A being of pure fire appeared from thin air and began chucking fireballs at the soldiers.

"Nice idea!" complimented the Nord from his perch. It was the only nice thing he had said so far.

J'zargo sprinted all fours to the group of soldiers and jumped. He flew a good ten feet in the air before crashing down onto a soldier. The impact instantly knocked the soldier out and the Khajiit dodged an incoming sword.

"No, you fight him" J'zargo stated casting a Fury spell on the soldier.

The Stormcloak turned and began attacking his teammate. The soldier was confused until he figured out his buddy had been brainwashed.

Then he got struck by a lightning bolt. He staggered and fell, defeated.

"You stole J'zargo's kill Onmund!" protested the cat mage.

The Nord spat. "So what? He ain't supposed to be dead anyway."

"That is irrelevant to J'zargo!"

By now the Dunmer had taken the frenzied soldier down and only one was left. He had a bow out and began firing arrows at them. One struck Brelyna straight in the chest and she gasped. She went to a knee, desperately trying to breath.

"No!" yelled Onmund jumping down. He activated a healing spell and began the restoration.

Suddenly, a massive fireball flew through the air and hit the soldier dead on. He was propelled into a nearby wall and crashed straight through it.

"Take that you numb-skulled simpleton!" shouted Averil with her hands still warm from the spell.

Onmund was staring at her astonished. "Talos help us."

J'zargo whistled. "Most impressive, Breton mage. Remind J'zargo to never underestimate you."

* * *

Averil sat on a rock, eating her lunch. The others were seated around her, watching as Colette patched up the soldier. She stopped and sighed.

"He'll be fine. Only minor broken bones. Though I don't think his commander will like this."

"He deserved it" defended Onmund.

"J'zargo agrees" agreed J'zargo.

"He had it coming" said Averil.

Colette smiled. "I know he did. But ask yourself. Is it better to destroy, or to build?"

"Both" answered the Khajiit immediately.

The Restoration mage nodded. "Good work. I see all of you becoming great mages. The Khajiit becoming an Illusion mage, the Nord being a Destruction mage, and the elf as an Alteration mage. And you Breton, maybe a Conjuration mage. But that fireball was very impressive."

"Taught her everything" stated J'zargo smiling.

"J'zargo, I met you yesterday" replied Averil.

"Yes, and J'zargo is a very good teacher. It makes sense."

They all laughed, unconsciously bonding together as apprentices.

**I personally love writing for J'zargo. It's like writing a narcissistic version of me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**This character is one of my favorites. A teen prodigy that still maintains her humility and sense of humor. Almost a female version of me, but I ain't a prodigy. I can just write for half-a-shit.**

"Come on Averil, just a little more!"

The two mages were not helping her exhaustion. She had been practicing for about ten hours straight.

Tolfdir had encouraged individual training with certain people he had appointed. These two were his twin grandnieces and were just as good as he was at Alteration. When she had felt the need to take a break, they had not held back with the encouragement. By now she felt like she had been left out to dry.

"I'm not made of steel you know" she managed to gasp while she let her magicka restore.

The slightly shorter one pouted. "Oh come on. You're tougher then this. Now, try it again!"

Averil took one final breath and stood. In front of her was a series of barrels positioned with the flat ends up. On each one was a target vase that would explode when hit. They were at different ranges, from ten yards to fifty.

She readied her Firebolt spells and nodded to the twins. They smiled and raised their hands.

The vases began wobbling, then rose into the air. They began moving in random directions, left and right, up and down, even diagonally.

Averil tossed a Firebolt and hit one dead on. She quickly whirled and took out another. She missed her third shot and quickly recovered with a fourth.

In five minutes the only thing left of the vases were chunks of smoking pottery in the snow. The twins grinned at her and gave her two thumbs up. Nice job.

"Hey, is that the Nord you were talking about?" asked one pointing directly behind her.

The Breton turned and saw Onmund walking to her. He had a film of ash on his clothes and had a sense of urgency around him.

"Oh, he is kinda cute" said the other twin. "I see why you like him."

Averil blushed and hid it with a casual flick of the cowl. Why must she be paired with the most immature little brutes?

"What's up Onmund?" she inquired making sure her voice didn't quiver.

The Nord wiped some ash from his clothes. "Nothing much, except I accidentally summoned a Flame Atronach too close to me. I think I'll smell like smoke for a few days."

He coughed. "Now, Tolfdir said that tomorrow we'll be meeting back in the Hall of the Elements. Oh, and you can stop training."

Averil let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods. These two have driven me to the brink of sanity."

"But we're not Illusion mages!" protested the shorter twin.

"Do you want your sister to be an only child?" replied the Breton.

"No!" protested the other twin. "I need this one so I have a meat shield in combat!"

"What?" exclaimed the shorter twin.

"Nothing."

J'zargo cleaned out another chunk of meat from his nails. "Stupid Restoration training. J'zargo finds it very dull."

Brelyna looked at him sideways. "Its very important if you want to become a big badass mage like you predict."

"But you are mistaken madam" replied the Khajiit. "J'zargo is already said mage."

Onmund threw a roll at him. "Shut up and eat."

They were eating in a small room in the Hall of Attainment that had been supplied for this very purpose. They had all shared their training so far and no one seemed happy.

"No one has given us an actual trainer" complained Onmund. "We always get some brother or nephew or some horse dung like that. It sickens me."

"As it does to J'zargo" stated the cat tearing into the roll the Nord had tossed to him. "He had hoped for some training with an expert on such subjects. Not a grandson of Colette. He did not even know she was that old."

Their little conversation was interrupted by someone standing in the doorframe. It was Ancano, the Thalmor advisor to the college.

"Excuse me for interrupting your 'important' discussion" stated the elf with particular sarcasm on the word important. "Have any of you seen a certain student named Orthorn? He's an Altmer, a fairly short one at that."

J'zargo shook his head. "No. J'zargo had not seen him."

Ancano scowled. "Referring to oneself in third person indicates arrogance. Arrogant people are those I love to disembowel. Now, you were saying?"

J'zargo looked like he had been smacked. The fork he had been holding was bent around his claws.

"I have not seen him" corrected the Khajiit.

"Good that" replied the mage. "I assume that answer is the same to the rest of you, so I shall be off."

And with that, he walked away with his odor of superiority still hanging around.

J'zargo let go of his fork, which was twisted and curled in many shapes. "J'zargo will now break protocol. Please do not mind."

After that was a solid minute of unprintable profanity.

Once he had sufficiently calmed his nerves, he sat down and resumed eating.

"I really hate that guy" stated Onmund glaring at the space the elf had occupied.

"Me too" said Brelyna twitching her hands nervously. "He's so superior to all of us though. He wouldn't have been accepted into the Thalmor if he wasn't really strong."

"J'zargo could take him."

"Hell ya!" declared the Nord smashing his fist into the table. "Me and the cat could lay his ass down! I'd also ask for your help Brelyna. Not to mention yours Averil."

The Breton gave off a blush that was well hidden with the shadows. "Why?"

Onmund threw up his hands. "Hello? I saw that fireball that knocked that guard into a wall! We'd need your amazing skills with Destruction!"

"J'zargo agrees."

Averil felt like they had just given her the biggest extension of friendship ever. They were freely praising her abilities and expressing a desire to fight alongside her. She felt a closer bond to the three then any she had with anyone else.

Brelyna tried to install reason into the argument. "He's far older then us. Let's just calm down and try to have a nice meal."

The Nord sighed. "Fine. I just hate arrogant pricks like him."

"I do too, but we're just apprentices. Let's try to get some real skill in magic before fighting against him."

"We may not have to" stated J'zargo calmly. "J'zargo believes he will do something rather stupid. He is sure of it."

"Doesn't matter" replied Onmund. "I just want to see him burn."

**By the way, a shoutout to one of my most loyal reviewers, Blaze. I really appreciate your reviews man. And I honestly think that my other reviewers will come along. The only reason my Editor hasn't left a review is because he's already seen these chapters. But I know he hasn't seen the later ones. So yeah, looking forward to his reviews too. So bye.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Now if you are unfamiliar with my ideas, I plan on striving away from the main story line. So no Eye of Magnus or anything like that. But I guarantee it will kick the crap out of things you've already read.**

"Now students, can you tell me what this enchantment is?" asked Tolfdir. He was holding a large golden medallion that radiated a solid cobalt color.

"Fortify Magicka?" answered Averil.

"Very close ma'am. Actually it is Fortify Magicka Regeneration. But a good guess none the less. Now, here's something you will all have to learn."

He placed the medallion on the table and put his hands next to it. He began chanting to it, whispering in a tongue only a few understand.

The amulet began to shake, then rise from the table. The aura of cobalt began to warp from the metal and absorb into the chalk star it was centered in.

A minute later and the medallion was nothing but a pile of ash. He brushed it away and picked up the book he had laid above the star. He rifled through it and came to a semi-finished page.

"As you can see, the enchantment has now been absorbed from the medallion and placed into this enchanter book. The star allows it to be written on paper and repeated indefinitely. A very useful tool let me assure you."

"J'zargo is intrigued" admitted the Khajiit.

"He should be" countered Onmund. "This is pretty cool. Now, how does enchanting work?"

"Good question Mr. Onmund. Enchanting is just as simple as disenchanting. Just repeat the words of the enchantment in the journal. Oh, and a noteworthy thing to remember."

He wrote a simple phrase next to the magical gibberish in the journal. "Try to keep track of which enchantment is which. Otherwise you may end up with a shattered soul gem."

Brelyna nodded. "Nearly lost my eyes last time that happened."

"Well, then you know the moral of this lesson from experience" stated the Alteration mage calmly.

"When can we start adding enchantments?" inquired Onmund.

"A little patience Mr. Onmund. I would not send you into the unknown without some guidance. But I do have a more important matter to get to."

He cleared his throat. "We have received word that the excavation at Saarthal was completely successful. But studies of the city's documents indicate there was a secondary location we have left undiscovered. It appears to be some kind of research facility. A very curious thing."

"Well then, let's go!" exclaimed J'zargo. "J'zargo wishes to find some interesting things that would not be noticed."

"Ignoring that comment, please be patient!" urged Tolfdir. "There is still a lot of preparation that needs to be made before we explore. It could very well be dangerous."

"Dangerous is my middle name" stated Onmund.

"I thought it was Wryren" said Brelyna.

"J'zargo agrees with this."

"I hate you both."

He glanced at Averil. "Least you don't annoy the shit out of me."

She gave him a sideways look. "Should I take that as a compliment?"

"Yes."

"Alright-y then."

Tolfdir sighed. "I have reason to believe the preparations will be done by tomorrow. Until then, please be patient and wait. And while you are at it, here."

He handed them each an amulet, all of which glowed a different aura.

"A little practice for disenchanting. That should keep you busy for a little while. Good day to you all."

* * *

"Goddamn it!" exclaimed Brelyna smashing her fist into the table.

Onmund glanced at her. "Something the matter?"

"This damn amulet has a conspiracy against me! I may be a novice enchanter, but I can at least do something like this!"

"Let J'zargo see" advised the Khajiit. He walked over to her disenchanting table and examined it closely.

"Ah, here is the problem" he pointed to the two points on the star. "You're symbols are mixed up. Conjuration is here, and Illusion is here."

"That's it?"

"J'zargo is sure."

The Dunmer rubbed them away and began re-writing them in the correct positions. "I'll never become a great mage at this rate."

"You underestimate yourself too much. J'zargo is a Khajiit, a rarity among magic-users. Now look at him."

She smiled. "That almost seemed like an encouragement."

He gave a fake snarl. "Don't tell anyone, or you may lose something valuable."

"I have no doubts."

The Khajiit returned to his work and sighed. "This one is deeply confusing. I have reason to believe it is a Water Breathing enchantment, but there is still something resisting it. Like only a few words are off."

"Have you thought maybe you're over-thinking it?" inquired Averil.

J'zargo turned to her. "Pardon?"

"Well, it could be Water Breathing, but since it radiates blue, it may be possible you are misinterpreting it as a Shock Resist enchantment or something similar."

He was about to issue a smart remark when he stopped. Then he began concentrating on the amulet and muttering to it.

Ten seconds later it lay in a pile of dust on the table. He looked at the Breton. "J'zargo has new respect for you madam. If you work hard, you may just become my advisor."

Averil scoffed. "Advisor? I'll be running this show before you."

The Khajiit laughed. "Ah, thank you. J'zargo appreciates a good joke."

"I'm serious."

He stopped. "We shall see madam. If you do become Arch-Mage before us, I will bake my hood and eat it."

"How do you like your leather?" asked Onmund.

"Breaded, slightly salted."

The Nord gave an odd look. "You've tried it before?"

"J'zargo has made similar bets in the past. Only once he has lost."

"And you ate your hood?" inquired Brelyna.

"Not this one, obviously."

The Breton was too busy laughing to ask questions. "You….actually ate it? With bread crumbs? Holy crap!"

The Khajiit crossed his arms. "I did promise my father I would. His face practically burst while J'zargo did it."

"Well, so will mine" stated Onmund smiling. "Cause I can bet Averil will finish before you."

She gave off a slight blush but casually hid it with her hood. "Really?"

"Well, you'll come after me, but since I'll be Arch-Mage by the time I'm thirty, you'll still have time to do some stuff."

She grunted. "Thanks."

He chuckled. "What? I'm being honest. But I'm sure either you or Brelyna will be after me. And J'zargo? Well, you'll be off College grounds because you attempted to steal the Arch Mage robes."

"What do you meant, attempted?" replied the Khajiit.

* * *

Averil woke up to someone pushing her shoulder. She opened an eye and saw Brelyna standing over her.

"What is it? Time to train?"

The Dunmer shook her head. "No. We all agreed, and we're going to the new evacuation site."

"What? You voted against that with me!"

"Well, I changed my mind. So either you can come along or stay here and get in trouble."

The Breton sighed and got out of bed. "You three will be the death of me."

**So they have a rebellious streak? Oh, how intriguing...**


	6. Chapter 6

**So it's almost Christmas, or close enough to where I hear Christmas music everywhere, and I am ecstatic. Oh, and don't expect a chapter on Christmas, but you can on Christmas Eve. Something to help you sleep that night, from me. **

The four renegade apprentices sprinted through the snow, J'zargo as point man. Due to his natural night eyes, he was the optimal man, or humanoid, for the job.

"Stay close!" he warned to his fellows. "J'zargo does not wish to lose any of you."

Onmund wrapped his cloak tighter around his frame and coughed. "Goddamn it. This damnable cold. Even I'm freezing."

Brelyna saw that Averil was struggling and grabbed her. "Huddle."

They wrapped each other in their cloaks and kept walking. The Breton looked towards the Khajiit.

"Are you sure we're going the right way?!" she yelled over the storm.

"Yes!" replied J'zargo. "As long as this compass is accurate, anyway."

They had been walking in the dark for over an hour by now. The snow was flurrying as it usually did and no one was really happy.

"We should go back!" shouted Onmund. "We'll freeze to death out here!"

"It's too late!" protested the Khajiit. "We'll never find our way back from here! We need to find shelter!"

J'zargo turned and saw something up ahead. His heart rate quickened. He wouldn't openly admit it, but he was freezing despite the fur. Anything would do.

"I see something!" he declared letting his narcissism slip for a moment. "Come on!"

Onmund turned to the two girls. Averil was practically falling over form exhaustion and Brelyna wasn't looking too good either.

"J'zargo! We need to help the girls!" he yelled running to them.

The Khajiit snarled at the inconvenience and followed him.

Just as Onmund reached the two, Averil collapsed into the snow. The Nord swore loudly and grabbed her. Slinging her over his shoulder as gently as possible, he saw that Brelyna had collapsed as well.

J'zargo reached them and grabbed the Dunmer. He picked her up bridal style and began to run towards the structure he had seen.

When they were about ten meters from it, something burst from the snow. It tackled Onmund down, dropping Averil in the process. He shouted and activated two Flames spells. He pressed them into the thing's skin and fully pumped them.

The thing was a saber cat, and didn't appreciate the fire. It smashed its head into his head, knocking him unconscious.

Until a lightning bolt entered its left eye cavity, killing it instantly.

Brelyna closed her glowing hand and looked at the Khajiit. "I need to help them."

J'zargo nodded and let her down. They went over to the two fallen mages and picked them up. Then the cat had an idea.

"Give me Averil" he ordered shifting Onmund.

The Dark Elf did so and the Khajiit slung her on his other shoulder.

"Come on!" he commanded carrying the two as gently as possible.

Brelyna followed, two spells in hand.

As they got closer, it turned out that it was some sort of shack. It was only one story and didn't have windows, but it looked stable.

The Dunmer reached it first and kicked down the door. Lucky no one was inside to get mad at her.

The interior was a simple thing, just a fireplace against one wall and a table on the other. It would do.

"Get them near the hearth!"

J'zargo set them down and looked at the hearth. It was full of wood and various kindling.

He flicked on a Flames spell and shot it straight into it. It flared up and sent a soft glow across the room.

The Dark Elf was already checking on the two. She removed Averil's hood and checked her vitals. Just as the Breton woke up.

"What the hell? What happened?"

Brelyna breathed a sigh of relief. "You passed out from the cold."

"Where's Onmund?"

The Dunmer's eyes widened. "Oh crap."

She quickly went over to the Nord and looked at him. There was an ugly gash on his forehead and he looked pale. Well, paler than usual.

"Come on, don't die on me" she ordered pressing a Healing spell into him. It healed the gash and removed some of the cold, but he still looked bad.

"I need your help Averil!"

"I know. Come on Onmund" urged the Breton.

The Nord opened his eyes halfway and stared at them. Then passed back into the realm of shadow.

"Goddamn it!" yelled Averil. She activated her own healing spell and began trying to revive him.

"This is far more severe than you think" stated J'zargo examining Onmund. "I need to make a potion."

"Why?" asked both of the female mages.

"He is suffering from hypothermia. Your magic will do nothing."

"Then start making it!"

Onmund opened his eyes again, but more than last time. He looked at the two healers.

"Hey, I love you guys."

"Goddamn it he's speaking again" muttered Brelyna.

"Shit!" exclaimed J'zargo. "I need Nirnroot!"

"I have some" stated Brelyna getting up.

Averil looked at the Nord. "Don't worry. We'll fix you right up."

"I don't know what you're saying, but you're pretty." He began to stroke her hair. Since he was practically dying, she didn't stop him.

"Your hair is so soft. I wish I had hair like that."

"Thank you."

"And you're so nice. I never noticed it until now."

"Thank you Onmund."

He gave an idiotic smile. Since it was completely genuine, it appeared more childish then stupid. "I have a secret."

"What is it?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

"You can tell me. I won't tell."

He gave a curious look. "You won't tell? Especially not Averil?"

She then realized that he didn't recognize her. He really was doing pretty badly.

"I won't tell. Especially not Averil."

He smiled. "Good. Lean closer. I don't want that Khajiit to hear me."

She leaned in towards his mouth.

"Closer."

She leaned closer.

"A little closer."

She leaned a little closer.

"I love Averil."

The Breton stopped dead. It couldn't be. It wasn't true.

She looked at him. He had a completely honest face on. He wasn't lying. He probably couldn't lie with his current lack of lucidity.

Just then J'zargo appeared carrying a bottle. It was filled with what looked like piss.

"Here you go" he stated pouring it down the Nord's throat. Onmund went from conscious to unconscious in 2.3 seconds.

Averil showed him. "Why'd you do that?"

"He was dying of hypothermia! I just saved his life!"

"Arrrrrgh!" yelled the Breton turning towards the fire and away from J'zargo.

The Khajiit looked at Brelyna and shrugged. "Humans are so complicated."

**I sympathize with J'zargo completely on that one.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Now that whole romance shit is not my first one, believe me. It's just the first one I put on display. So let me know how it goes OK?**

Brelyna looked at her with eyes wide. "You are joking."

"I wish I was" stated Averil. "But he said it, and I am pretty damn sure he wasn't lying."

"But, it doesn't make sense. He's well him, and you're, well, you."

"Thank you for summing that up in a way that doesn't make sense."

Since J'zargo had left to gather more firewood, they were talking about Onmund's confession. Not that J'zargo wasn't a good friend, it's just that he wouldn't react in a favorable way.

The Dunmer wiped a strand of hair from her face. "Well, there's either two possibilities. Either he wakes up fully aware of his confession and comes clean, or he wakes up and doesn't know a damn thing about it."

"Well, the one where he admits it is a lot easier to accept" countered the Breton. "But what if the second one is true?'

"Then we continue like nothing happened. I have no doubt that if he really loved you, he'd come after you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, you're an attractive woman. This is coming from a female from another species of course, but still."

Averil smiled. "Thank you. I think."

Just then the Khajiit entered, arms full of wood. He dropped it next to the fire and looked back at the unconscious Nord.

"How is he?"

Brelyna looked at Onmund. His skin was no longer ash-colored, and his breathing was steady.

"He's doing really well. But he hasn't even opened his eyes since we gave him the potion. I don't think we'll be getting to the excavation anytime soon."

"J'zargo is disappointed. But he will not risk the safety of his teammates for personal gain."

He sat down and began chewing on a wad of meat. "What do we do?"

"A very good question" spoke an unknown voice.

They turned and saw something that made them very surprised.

Savos Aren was standing in the corner of the shed, calmly whittling away at a small chunk of bone. He looked up at them and smiled.

"It would seem I have found you all. A good thing too, for I feared something had gone wrong. Now tell me, has something gone wrong?"

J'zargo was first to speak. As usual. "We believe Onmund has gotten hypothermia."

"I figured as much. Let me have a look at him."

The Arch-Mage knelt down to the Nord and examined him. "Strange. It is hypothermia, but there are traces of magicka sickness. Like someone's magic had become infused into him."

"Is that possible?" asked Averil.

"Definitely. Long enough exposure to hostile magicka can cause it to leak into your system. Since it's not configured to you, it begins to react violently with your own magicka. Let me ask, was he hit by anything? Like a spell of some sort?"

"No" answered Brelyna. "He was tackled by a saber cat, but no spells."

Savos stroked his beard. "It is possible, no matter how unlikely, that the blizzard you all walked through was a spell."

"But that was so large in scale!" objected J'zargo. "Is such a thing possible?"

"Yes Khajiit. I have heard of things such as this. Though it probably was not of human origin. Perhaps it was a result of a dragon awakening. Their revivals are becoming more violent as of late."

Just then Onmund woke up. He immediately spat out a large chunk of what looked like blue phlegm.

"Goddamn it that tasted foul!" he yelled as loud as he could. He turned and noticed that the Arch-Mage was standing before him.

"Oh, apologies Master Aren. I, uh, that stuff tasted like troll dung."

"Understandable Onmund. Now rest, you have had a difficult time as it is."

The Nord lay back on the mat before him. "I'm sorry sir. We all just wanted to see the new excavation."

"Traelo eh? You want to go there?"

"Yes sir."

The Arch Mage sighed. "Well, it is a very large risk, due to the uncertainty of the contents. But if you say, had appropriate escorts to assist you, you could go in."

"But Tolfdir said we couldn't go in before someone clears it" stated J'zargo none too happy.

"Well, I don't think he can say that if it's already cleared" said Savos standing.

Averil was beginning to catch on. "Who's going to clear it?"

The Arch-Mage smiled. "Well, me of course."

He cracked his knuckles. "But I do need someone to carry some supplies. Torches don't lay themselves." He looked at the four apprentices. "Now who do I know that can do this task for me?"

Brelyna raised her hand.

"Goody. Now, can I count the rest of you?"

"Of course" stated Onmund. "I just hope there's some Draugr. I need something to test my new spells."

"Don't be too excited" warned Savos. "It's probably nothing."

A few hours later they were setting out in the direction of Traelo. Onmund had been given proper treatment by Savos and was healthy enough to stand. The Arch-Mage was leading them, mainly due to the fact he knew exactly where he was going.

He stopped and picked something off the ground. It was a stone mask, rounded to a smooth edge. It was completely white and had no other patterns on it minus an opening for the right eye.

"What's that?" asked J'zargo.

"A trophy" answered Savos. "Someone attacked me on my way here, and decided that I was weak. He obviously lost this."

"Who was it?"

"I don't know. But he was very powerful in the arcane arts. But not powerful enough to kill me."

"Could you see any details about him?"

"His left eye was blind, that was obvious when he took off the mask. And he was very pale. Other than that, nothing."

J'zargo looked around, like he was making sure this attacker was not there.

"Do not worry Khajiit. He won't be coming back. I nearly killed him as it was."

Onmund was growing curious. "Why did he attack you?"

"I don't know. He claimed that he needed something interesting to do."

The Arch-Mage stopped talking because he noted something ahead of him. He smiled. "We are here."

The four apprentices looked forward and gasped. Traelo was not a hole in the ground like Saarthal was. No, it was much better.

A large spire rose into the air, almost a hundred feet in height. It didn't have a base though. It just sank straight into the ground below.

"How do we enter?" asked Averil.

"We found the beginning of the facility to the south" answered Savos turning. "Let us go."

Ten minutes later, they were inside. It was indeed of Nordic design, with stone walls and ancient pillars. There were many chunks of various objects on the ground, but what they once were was very difficult to interpret. Unlike most, there were no burial urns around the walls.

"What were they researching?" asked Brelyna.

"We are still figuring that" answered Savos. "We believe it could be anything. From something as simple as weapon designs to the stars. To be honest, the entire facility is dedicated to research, so a combination of multiple things is expected."

"I hope they were studying something arcane" stated Onmund. "I would love to see what kinds of enchantments have been lost."

"J'zargo agrees."

They stopped when they reached a massive door. Currently they were inside the foyer of Traelo, which wasn't that special mainly due to the fact that there was nothing there. While it appeared that it once contained a sort of hub for visitors, it was a small hub.

Savos stepped up to the door and tested it. Since it opened neither way, he sighed.

"Stand back" he warned taking a step backwards.

The four moved back and Savos clenched his fists. He aimed his hands at the door and opened them.

The doors flew and smashed into the walls perpendicular to them. The Arch-Mage sighed.

"Well I hope no one's here; otherwise they know we are anyway."

Inside the new room was now something related to the research. It was a central area with three other doors in the cardinal directions. Along the walls were various trophies and portraits. Of course most of the portraits were so faded that it was nearly impossible to see them and the trophies were rusted, but it did look good.

"Intriguing" stated Savos examining the lights on the wall. "It appears they used the innards of Netches for lighting. I have never seen that before."

Just then one of the doors opened. The five mages turned and stared at the things that opened the door.

Three people walked from the door, all holding weapons. Two were males and the third was a female. They all wore armor with the fur of wolves around the edges and had marks around their eyes.

The female saw them and drew a large hunting bow. Notching an arrow and bring it up in one motion, she pointed it at Savos.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

The two males drew their weapons as well, a broadsword for one and twin axes for the other.

The Arch-Mage raised his hand. "Peace, Companions. I am Savos Aren. Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."

The female scowled. "Bloody mages. Can't go five seconds without shoving their noses in someone else's business."

J'zargo took a step forward. "You better take that back madam, or J'zargo will rip out your throat."

She smiled. "And who is he? You? I'm more afraid of the Arch-Mage over there then you."

The Companion with the axes looked at her. "Aela, I recommend we depart. I know of Savos. He is too powerful."

"Stay out of this Odei" snapped the female. "I can handle this."

Savos flicked his wrist and the arrow in the bow flew. He caught it and spun it in his palm.

"Iron arrows. How quant. Now we do not seek conflict with you fine people, but if you shoot first, I will gladly return it."

The female scowled and the other male put a hand on her shoulder. "We don't have time for this. We need to get back to Kodlak."

She paused, then put her bow away. "Fine. I'm glad we at least got what we came for."

"What did you come for anyway?" asked Savos.

The male with the broadsword answered, "Something precious to us. Now step aside."

They moved past the five mages with an air of superiority. Before he left, the one named Odei turned and looked straight at Averil. "Good day madam." He gave a bow and left.

"I don't like them" stated Onmund.

"That one was kinda cute" said Brelyna.

"He was also a jerk" defended Averil. She gave a smile to Onmund, who returned it.

J'zargo looked at them. "Is J'zargo missing something?"

"Nope. Nothing" replied Brelyna.

**Yes. Absolutely nothing. Why are you looking at me like that J'zargo?!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy 6th day until we all die! Just kidding. We aren't gonna die. But if someone you know thinks so, and if that someone is of opposite gender, well, you know what I'm getting at. Already planning it myself. So yeah, keep reading.**

"Holy Talos" muttered Onmund.

Inside the room was a massive mechanical statue. It was of Dwarven design and nearly ten feet tall.

"Why is there a Dwarven Centurion in a Nordic facility?" asked Brelyna.

"They were probably studying it" answered Savos. "Though I am surprised they managed to get all of it inside of here. That indicates a certain level of intelligence in transportation. Hopefully we can see what else is here."

"Research into ancient technology? That sounds like a section" noted Brelyna.

"Ancient? J'zargo is off." And with that, the Khajiit was off.

"Somebody follow him so he doesn't lose something" semi-ordered Savos.

"I'll get him" stated Averil running after the feline.

Onmund looked at her as she ran to find him. "She really is a good teammate."

The Dunmer looked at him. "You appreciate her don't you?"

"Well yeah. In a way I guess. She has the aura of confidence, but also humility. I can respect that."

"Respect?" repeated the Dark Elf giving him a sideways glance.

He returned it. "Yes. Just respect. Why do you ask?"

"Just making sure."

* * *

"Goddamn it J'zargo slow down!" commanded the Breton. She had been running for nearly five minutes trying to find him. She always caught just the edge of his tail and nothing more.

She turned a corner and slammed into him. He was standing completely petrified at something in front of him.

"What the hell..?" she began before noting what was in front of both of them.

She grabbed his arm and began sprinting. "Run!" she ordered.

* * *

Savos looked up as he saw the two apprentices returning. "Ah good. Next time Khajiit, don't…"

He stopped as the thing behind them became clear. It was a massive griffin, almost the size of a saber cat. On its back were large wings that were fully stretched. It claws shone with a rough gleam and its beak was chipped hard.

"Oh no" muttered Arch-Mage. He raised his left hand and threw his right arm back.

The two apprentices flew towards him and collapsed beside him, dazed but unharmed.

Savos aimed his hand at the griffin and formed it into a circle by touching all his fingertips together. The beast immediately stopped dead and he closed his eyes. Then he clenched his fist.

The griffin imploded, then exploded in a mass of blood and gore. It literally splattered the ceiling with chunks.

The Arch-Mage lowered his arm and sighed. "I despise that move. I hate that I have to use it. But it is my most powerful technique that I can use."

He turned to the two apprentices he had saved. "Are you okay?"

Averil nodded. "I'm fine. J'zargo is looking a little pale though."

"That was a big bird" muttered the Khajiit.

"Yeah. It was a griffin."

"I really, really, REALLY hate birds."

Onmund looked at him. "You're a cat and you hate birds?"

"First, J'zargo is Khajiit, not cat. Second, birds can pluck out eyes. J'zargo loves his eyes."

Brelyna nodded. "I can symphonize with that."

"J'zargo needs a hug."

The Dunmer wrapped her arms around him and he nuzzled himself into her shoulder. "J'zargo thanks you."

Onmund had a grin ear-to-ear on his face. "So our badass mage can't handle a griffin eh? I'll remember that."

"J'zargo will enjoy killing you" stated the Khajiit.

Savos sighed. "You guys are just like my old class."

Onmund perked up. "That means one of your old class became Arch-Mage. Who is most like you?"

The Arch-Mage shrugged. "I am not sure. No one really. Anyway, we have things to do. Come on."

They walked deeper into the Ancient Technological Research department (coined by Savos), admiring the various things they had stored. There were ancient Dwemer artifacts, Elven relics, and even some things that looked to be of beastly descent. This included both Argonian and Khajiit style.

"J'zargo is most intrigued" stated the feline examining a certain artifact. It looked like a lunar calendar of some sort, but in the shape of a globe. In truth, it resembled a solar system model but in a complete 360 degrees.

The Arch-Mage examined it. "Fascinating. It seems they used this model to track the motions of various moons with Elsweyr. While not exactly correct, it does seem to be accurate."

He looked closer. "It appears incorrect to me due to my definition of a day and night system. It appears that a Khajiit week is 50% longer than the ones in the Empire. Fascinating. It still seems that they have our traditional day count though for the amount in a year. I must admit, your people are very interesting Khajiit."

"Thank you Master. J'zargo is proud of his people's history."

"No one should be ashamed of their history." Savos bowed his head. "But they should never forget it either."

Averil looked at him. Something was bothering him, but she couldn't figure it out.

"Hey guys, check this out!" shouted Onmund.

They all went over to the Nord, who was standing in front of a table. In his hands was a large glass orb, colored purple. Although the color was hard to determine due to its current contents. It appeared to be filled with multi-colored smoke and radiated all of them in such a way that they all appeared bright and vibrant.

"Amazing" muttered the Arch-Mage. He lightly grabbed the orb from him and began to examine it. "A single piece of glass. No tool marks. No grafts. Not a single bump or rough edge."

He tapped it with his finger. It made a dull ring, but nothing else.

"And it is completely solid. As if the contents are solid themselves. What is this thing?"

He looked at the Nord. "Where did you find this?"

"Right here" said Onmund pointing to a small stand.

The Arch-Mage placed the globe down and looked at the stand. It was a simple pyramid with a large hole cut in it to accompany the sphere. It was colored black and shined insanely bright. But the main thing was the letter on one edge. It was bold white and popped from the black around it.

"_Property of Corbett the Black_" Savos read clearly. "This is odd. It is an ancient artifact, but this is a more recent Nord name if my records are correct."

"Perhaps the name is older then was predicted?" guessed Brelyna.

"Good point fellow elf. Anything is possible with the correct logic."

Averil was still looking at the orb. Something about it was enticing her to stare into the colored smoke. She saw shapes in it. She saw fire and water, clouds and rock, dragons and men. It was so clear to her that she began to breath harder as it became more clear.

Without her knowing, she took a step towards it. Since the others were still trying to figure out whose name that was, they didn't notice her.

She reached out a hand and touched it. It felt warm, like a toasted loaf of bread.

At this the clouds' visions became more cleared. She could see the scales on the dragons, the skin on the men. Then something spoke to her.

"Haalvut Dovahkiin. Haalvut ahrk aav zu. (Touch Dragonborn. Touch and join me.)"

She placed her other hand on the orb.

Instantly her mind went black and she gasped. Then she felt herself slip into something not reality. Which caused her mind to fade into the dark.

***(insert clever comment from me)**


	9. Chapter 9

**So if you've been this far in the story, you've figured out that I have scrapped the Eye of Magnus idea. While a great edition to the lore that I absolutely love, it's not that really exciting all over again. I mean, if you're doing something like COD Zombies, rewriting previous things are actually good ideas. I give props to whoever can do a successful rewrite on something with very little story. But Elder Scrolls is buried in lore, so I have to work with it and basically find those little loopholes to make my stuff amazing. But I do love a challenge, so it's awesome to write.**

Averil woke up to something that was definitely not her reality. For one, it was dark. And it was cold. And it smelled like a troll's armpit. Ugh, never use that reference again.

"Well, it's dark as hell" she stated to herself letting her eyes adjust. "And it's cold as hell. And it's smelly as hell. And I'm scared as hell. I must be in hell."

With that logic, she tried to figure her way out. She looked around and finally got a better view. It was some sort of cave, a very dark and cold one. To her back was a stone wall with deep engravings on it. The markings appeared to be Nordic in design, but it was hard to tell.

To her front was a large structure that she didn't recognize. It looked like it was carved with broadswords and testosterone. On it was various symbols that looked like they were chiseled with femurs of trolls.

"I am in a really creative mood right now" she thought admiring the metaphors running through her head.

She approached the wall and noticed one of the symbols was glowing. It was practically smoking blue and flying towards her. She took another step and it increased.

Averil finally reached it and placed her hand on the symbol.

Instantly her mind flared with electricity. She gasped and collapsed to her knees, never letting her hand slip from the symbol.

She saw images of things she couldn't understand. It was incredible scenes of war and folklore that made no sense but were beautiful none the less. And during it things were shouting over the images, some sort of language she didn't understand. It was deep and guttural, but also strangely elegant at the same time.

Then it stopped and she could breathe. She stood unsteadily, panting heavily.

"Ful zu lost vahzah. Amm. (So I was correct. Hmm.)" said a voice.

She turned, something a little bit more difficult because of her legs.

There was a man standing behind her, his arms clasped behind his back. He wore a long blue robe that had shiny silver edges around the collar and tassels. His head was completely shaved which made his white skin radiate even more. Other than that, he had no other distinctive features.

"Wo kos hin? (Who are you?)" asked Averil. She didn't recognize the language, but she understood it. Somehow, her mind interpreted her thoughts into another language.

The man smiled. "Zu'u Corbett, Dovahkiin. Hin lost voonikaan wah kos zofaas. (I am Corbett, Dragonborn. You have no reason to be afraid."

The Breton was definitely not reassured by this. She had no idea where she was, who the hell this guy was, and why the hell he had summoned her here. She decided to ask the most straightforward one.

"Loan zu'u golt? (Why am I here?)"

"Paaz loan. Hin kos golt mindok zu yah hin ahmik. (Fair question. You are here because I need your help."

Corbett walked over to one side of the cave and pressed a button.

Instantly, a chunk of wall next to him slid into the floor, revealing a lit passageway. He gestured to the mage to follow.

The tunnel was carved rock with various torches positioned on it. Instead of regular flames, they appeared to be lit from magic.

"Faal dov drun ahraan wah vus. Gut heyv liivrah faal dov. Faal Dovahkiin. (The dragons have brought death into Nirn. Only a few can fight them. The Dragonborn."

"Zu'u loan Dovahkiin? (Am I Dragonborn?)" asked the Breton.

"Geh (Yes)" replied Corbett.

She was so stunned by this she stopped walking. She had heard the tales of the Dragonborn, the ones who could absorb the souls of dragons and use it as their power. The ones who were destined dragon slayers. How could she be one of them? She was from a farming community, and had no combat experience. Dragon slayer didn't exactly fit that profile.

The elder motioned for her to follow again. "Zu fun hin onikaan nau Dovahkiin. Ful nid fez wah zul faal zoor. (I sense your knowledge on the Dragonborn. So no need to explain the legend.)"

They reached the end of the passageway and came into a small room. It was laden with a table and a bed. On the table was a large map with multiple pins of varying colors on them. It completely spanned Tamriel and even some places beyond it. There were even lines that connected some pins together, forming abstract patterns.

"Zu unt wah siiv nust, nuz zu'u liivrah. Zu yah aan zeymah. (I am trying to hunt them, but I am diminishing. I need a partner."

He looked up at her. "Bodiis daar. (Take this.)"

He picked up a large book and handed to her. She looked at the cover, which was made of plain leather. It was completely blank except for a dragon symbol emblazoned on the front.

"Pruzah sul Dovahkiin. (Good day Dragonborn.)"

Then her world faded to black again and she collapsed.

**I love writing in Dragon. Thank God I don't have to put the symbols in here. My computer would raise a middle finger if I even attempted that. **


	10. Chapter 10

**So, four days till Christmas. Hope you all have a happy holiday. I might still be writing, but you might not be reading. It's cool, I understand. But I till upload these story covers during the break (Look at my profile for more info on the covers).**

Averil woke up with someone snoring beside her.

She rolled over and noted that J'zargo was sleeping beside her. Which meant that she was lying on some sort of bed.

Suddenly, Onmund was all up in her face, his eyes filled with worry. "Are you alright?"

She blushed, something she noted with anger. Thankfully his large shadow blocked it. "I'm fine."

He breathed a sigh of relief and took a step back. Grabbing a cup of water, he placed it up to her lips. "Drink."

She did so, trying her best to prevent eye contact. It was a lot harder than she imagined. His eyes were dazzling, or it might be that they were reflecting the light of the nearby candle.

She stopped and looked at him. "Where am I?"

"Traelo" answered a voice.

She looked up and saw that Savos Aren was leaning against a pillar, carving into his chunk of bone. He looked over at her and smiled. "We decided that you would be fine with my skills in alchemy. You were only unconscious for a few hours."

"It didn't feel like hours" muttered Onmund.

The Arch-Mage smiled. "The Nord hardly left your side. He really does care about you."

The Nord's face flared red. "It's that, um, it's just that she's my teammate you know? And, uh, I kinda have to, um, take care of them, you know? It's not because, um, she's her. It's because, well, you know, she's my teammate and all."

Savos smiled. "No need to clarify Onmund. Now, where is Brelyna?"

"Over here sir" stated the Dunmer popping her head up from behind a massive rock. "I've been investigating this chest over here."

"Oh right. I remember sending you on that task. Now, let me see how well you're doing."

He walked over to the fellow elf and began to examine the artifact.

Onmund looked at Averil and smiled. "Helluva adventure so far eh?"

She nodded.

"I nearly died, J'zargo nearly died, and now you. Better watch over Brelyna, it's her turn now."

"Or Savos" replied the Breton.

"Him? Hell I don't think there's anything in this place that could kill him."

A loud smashing sound emitted through the hall and Savos looked up. "What was that?"

They heard footsteps echo from some unknown point, and then something appeared. It was twelve feet tall and wore a large black robe. Its face was rotten and revealed the bone underneath. It held a massive battleax over his shoulder that was shaped in elaborate Daedric style. It radiated a general aura of decay and death.

"Draugr Sentinel!" declared the Arch Mage. He leaped forward and smashed his palm into its chest.

The large mound of flesh flew backwards and smashed into the wall with a sigh.

Savos whirled his hands and an orb of magicka surrounded the apprentices.

"Don't move" he ordered turning back to the Atronach.

It swung its axe at his head and he ducked underneath. He gripped it by the arm and roared. In one fluid motion, he tore it right off its body.

The thing collapsed without a grimace and kept trying to hit him. He raised his hands and blocked the large axe with a Ward.

The Sentinel managed to stand itself up on a wall and grabbed a nearby pillar. It then threw the stone at the Arch-Mage.

Savos collapsed underneath the stones and coughed up blood.

"Arch-Mage!" cried Onmund.

"Stay back!" he ordered through the blood.

The Draugr stood over him and raised the axe. Savos raised one hand and activated a Ward. It swung the axe aimed at his head.

Then a massive lightning bolt smashed into its hand and it dropped the weapon.

Averil stood, her hair messy, her face covered in dirt, but with no fear on her face.

"If you ever touch my teacher, I'll kill you!" she warned raised her hands and preparing various spells.

The Sentinel smiled, amused at her bravery. It raised its arm and the axe sailed into its hand.

"Aus kiid. (Suffer child)."

It twirled the axe in its hand and threw it parallel to the ground. Averil reacted without thinking and shouted three words.

"VIIR DU LIIV! (Dying Devour Wither)"

Black smoke enveloped the axe and wrapped around the entire weapon. It then disintegrated into black dust. By the time it reached her, it was barely a cloud of flecks.

The Draugr raised an eyebrow. "Moro. (Impressive)"

"I aim to please."

It smiled, even with the rotting skin and bones. "Nuz zu'u ni viik. (But I am not defeated yet)"

It cracked its knuckles and glared deep into her eyes. "Dir. (Die)"

It ran at her, the sound of its metal boots clanging on the floor. Averil activated a spell in both hands and pressed her fingers together. Concentrating intensely, she forced the ball of magicka towards it.

When it came in contact with the Sentinel, it burst into purple and black flames in circular fashion. The flames then began to drag it inside.

"Nid! (No!)" It cried trying to stop its descent.

Averil ran up to it and placed her hand on its chest. Then she looked it in the eyes and spoke.

"Munax alok-dilon, aal daar jul kos stin se him dur. Drun daal ok zii nol fin vulom se vokul. (Cruel undeath, may this man be free of your curse. Bring back his soul from the darkness of evil.)

She gripped the armor around its chest and pressed her forehead into its. "Zu thur hin ol Averil, Dovahkiin do Hind (I command you as Averil, Dragonborn of Hope!)"

She pulled back her arm and in her grasp was an ethereal ball. With this freed, the rotting body tumbled into the flames.

She looked at the ball in her hands. "Kos stin. (Be free)"

She released it up into the air and it radiated into the air.

Averil walked over to Savos and grabbed a rock. Tossing it off him, she looked at his wound. "Can you fix that? Because I can't."

"Yes" he gasped placing his now freed arm on his chest. He began to heal it, restructuring his ribs and such.

"You…are…Dragonborn?" he managed to say.

"Yes sir."

"Talk…later."

He rested his head back in the small impact crater and shuddered as a rib shifted back into place. He closed his eyes and dropped the barrier around the apprentices.

"What the hell was that!?" asked J'zargo who was now fully awake and aware.

"I, uh, released the Draugr's soul."

"How did you do that?"

"I spoke to it in Dragon."

"That is all?"

"No. I can do it because I'm Dragonborn."

"Well fuck you!" exclaimed the Khajiit storming off.

She turned to Brelyna. "What's with him?"

"He's jealous. He likes the idea of being the strongest on the team. He sees you as a threat."

Just then Averil collapsed to her knees. She gasped as the air literally exited her lungs.

"Shit!" muttered Onmund getting to her level. He wasn't entirely sure what to do, but kept a healing spell close by.

"I'm fine" she stated pushing his away gently. "That was the first time I tried that."

"How did you know those words?" asked Onmund.

"I, I really don't know. They just came to me."

"Well I'm happy you have some badass abilities of your own. It makes you interesting."

She blushed, despite the lack of oxygen she was getting. "Really?"

"Yep. But you're still behind me in terms of badassness."

She punched him in the shoulder. "Shut up."

**Yet again, the reason she is my favorite Dragonborn. So badass but also so mischievous. Like a regular kid really. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Now I hope you all had a damn good Christmas. Cause I did. It was actually pretty good. So yeah.**

"I really hate this shit Tolfdir put on us" complained Onmund lying on the bench. "I mean, sure we broke out of College grounds in the middle of the night and nearly killed all of us, but still!"

"J'zargo is most annoyed" muttered the Khajiit. "Tolfdir does not understand the adventurous spirit of the young."

When they got back to the College, Tolfdir was waiting for them. He lectured them for a solid hour on the various dangers that this sort of thing entailed and what actually happened.

"You nearly killed our Arch-Mage as well! You are lucky he does not banish you from the grounds!" he had yelled after hearing Savos's report.

The Arch-Mage looked at him. "Perhaps you are being a little harsh my good man. I mean, I did encourage them to go on to Traelo. If I hadn't shown up, they'd have went back."

"I understand this sir. But that does not excuse the breaching of the ultimate rule: Never leave the College grounds without permission from the Arch-Mage."

"Of course. So I think a simple hiatus on their education would be the best."

"That does sound like a good idea. I think two weeks will do."

And it was so. So far a week had passed and all of them were bored to the point of tears.

"I think I'm dying" stated Brelyna. "I have a severe case of Bored Fever. It's lethal in my case."

"Join the club" replied Averil. "I think I'm running a high fever by now."

"Well I see why you are" said Onmund. "You're freaking Dragonborn, so that's a little odd."

"Yes, J'zargo is most intrigued by this. If the legends are true, than there is a destiny in front of you that must be fulfilled."

Averil sighed. "My entire life, I've always been told what I had to do and what I would do. They said I'd never become as beautiful as my mother. I proved that wrong by becoming even more beautiful. They said I'd always be living on a farm. I proved that wrong by joining the College. Now they say I'm Dragonborn and I have to fulfill my destiny of saving the world. Well I'm sure that the world is so damn full of heroes that I'm not needed. I'm not going to embrace my destiny. I'm Averil goddamn it, and I'll decide my own fate."

She stopped. "I'm going to my room."

She walked off in a huff and lay down on her bed. Damn it all to hell. Now she looked weak for getting to emotional in front of the others. Especially Onmund.

"You know, those sort of words were spoken by many people over the course of history."

She looked up and saw that someone was leaning on her dresser. It was Corbett the Black.

"What words?"

"Oh you know, the ones you spat about controlling your fate. Many have said the same thing. None of them actually succeeded."

"So what do I do?"

"Don't make the mistake they made. Don't try to avoid your fate. Just accept it. You never know. You may unconsciously avoid it by not caring about it."

She sighed. 'It's just that, I don't want to be Dragonborn. I just want to be the Arch-Mage of the College."

"A noble goal. I was Arch-Mage for a time as well."

"When?"

"About five hundred years ago."

She gave him a sideways stare. "What?"

He lifted the orb of glowing smoke in his hands. "This little artifact is what binds me to this world. I live in a realm beyond life and death due to the prowess I had with magic. I sealed myself into this and made a place where I could emit my spirit. My last act was dropping this in Traelo so that no one would find it."

He laughed. "At least, that was the intention. It seems your college is very persistent."

"How did you get in?"

"I knew where it was. I discovered it. I just made sure no one knew."

Averil looked at him. "Why are you here?"

"I am here, Ms. Dragonborn, because I know you need some guidance. I have seen many things from my adventures as a spirit, but you are unique. A Dragonborn. Funny though, I found you first."

"Wait, you mean there are others?"

"Certainly. Ten in fact. I know them all by name, however only you know me."

"Can you tell me who they are?"

"No."

She began to get offended at being treated like a child. "Why not?"

"What's the point? Most are as inexperienced as you in the role of Dragonborn and some would try to kill you."

"Why?"

"Some well, they aren't good with people."

"Fine, whatever. So what kind of guidance do I need?"

Corbett pulled out a book. It was well-worn and yellowed with age. "This book is a list I have assembled over the years. It contains the words of what I believe are called Shouts. Each Shout is more powerful with every word that you use. I believe you used on in the fight against that Draugr Sentinel."

"That's a Shout?"

"Yes. A very useful one against the undead, as you figured out there. But you have something even more amazing. You actually talked in Dragon and made a sentence. Very few have ever learned to do that. Not only that, you did three in quick succession with perfect translation. I think you have very high gifts."

"So why do I need help?"

"Because your knowledge does not suit your skills. You are excellent with Shouts, a true natural, but you know very few. I bet you don't even remember the one you used earlier."

She tried to think about it. She really had forgotten.

"So this book has Shouts?"

"Well, a good amount. The main problem is you have to absorb a dragon soul to activate them."

He pulled out a soul gem, although it looked very odd. It was a dark shade of green and seemed to drawn in the light around it.

"This is a special stone used by the earliest Nords to seal dragons. I have used it to seal ten souls inside for your use. Spend them wisely."

He placed the book and the stone on her bed and adjusted his robe.

"I am honored to serve you Dragonborn. If you need my aid, just knock on the surface of the book five times."

"Thank you. And you don't have to call me Dragonborn. Just call me Averil."

"Averil. Ok then. Good day."

Then he disappeared in a flurry of shadows.

"I guess that's why he's called Corbett the Black" she muttered opening the book.

**Ah Corbett. What an enigma.**


	12. Chapter 12

**It's been fun writing this. Just explaining how stupid stuff like how enchanting really works is kinda fun. But this will sink into more important things. I guarantee it.**

"Now my students, I will be teaching you a very useful ability today" stated Tolfdir holding a large wooden staff. He placed it on the table and pulled out a small gem.

"Can anyone tell me what this is?"

Brelyna answered, "That's a Magicka Gem. It's used to charge up a staff and make it a stave. Most tend to form into the round gems at the end of the stave."

"Absolutely correct miss. There are a few exceptions to this, but they are very few. So we shall concentrate on the majority."

He lifted the staff. It was very simple and completely straight. It appeared to be a light shade of red with several gold pieces on it.

"Now these features are required for making a stave. There are templates to follow for each of the schools of magic. Now I am sure you know that this is a preparation for an Illusion stave. Now for the creative bit."

He placed it on the table along with the Magicka Gem. He then inserted the gem into an awaiting socket and snapped it tight. Then he placed his right hand over it and activated a spell in his left.

Not losing his concentration, he emitted the spell onto the staff while moving his fingers in his left hand. The spell began to swirl around the staff and sink into the wood. As it moved, it carved runes into it that quickly melded into the colors that were already there.

Once the process was finished, the stave was radiating magicka. Tolfdir picked it up and twirled it. "A good old Staff of Rage. It has about fifty charges, give or take. That is a factor that is mostly random depending on what kind of gem you use."

He pointed to a small closet. "Now in there are four pieces of wood. All of them are able to be used as a staff. I want you to carve a staff and make it into a stave. I don't care what kind of spell you enchant it with, but have it done by tomorrow. Good day."

He walked off with his newest creation in hand, whistling as he did so.

Onmund opened the closest and saw that there were indeed four pieces of wood. They were about six feet tall and nearly a foot wide.

"Shit there goes my afternoon."

* * *

Almost three hours later they were all still carving. Averil decided to be simple about it and went to a Restoration stave. It was kicking her ass with the socket at the end, but other than that she was doing well.

"Man I think J'zargo shot himself in the foot" stated Brelyna to her fellow female mage. "He's trying to do a freaking Destruction stave and it's killing him."

It was true. J'zargo was barely halfway done with the carving and a lot of the dragon head at the end was unfinished.

"He's definitely trying to prove a point" noted Onmund. "I just want to do something with a complex spell. Main reason I choose Conjuration."

Brelyna looked at her staff. "You guys are trying something with all these fancy designs and I've just got Alteration. Yours' is gonna kick the crap out of mine."

"Not exactly" replied the Nord. "Knowing Tolfdir, he's going to judge us on every freaking detail of our stave. You assured that you'd get it right."

"That can be taken negatively" pointed out Averil.

"Well excuse me for being a nice guy!"

J'zargo looked up. "Can you all please shut up? Thank you."

The Nord smiled. "He's just pissed because he chose the wrong kinda staff."

"Screw you too Onmund."

Suddenly someone wearing a long green robe flared into the room. It was Nirya, an Altmer student. She was commonly regarded as a bitch by many, but they decided to let her speak first.

"Aren't you all excited?" she asked keeping her arrogant tone.

"About what?" asked Averil.

"You haven't heard? We're supposed to be hosting a Proelium in a week."

"What in the name of Talos is a Proelium?

She scoffed. "It is, my ignorant Nord, a tournament. We usually host it once a year with the Synod and the College of Whispers. This year we host it."

"What kind of tournament?" inquired Brelyna.

"A magical tournament of course! We compete in matches and then have a party in the end. It's quite entertaining."

"Are you going to be in it?" asked J'zargo.

"Of course not. Only students are allowed, and technically I am not a student."

"You have the skill for it though" muttered Onmund.

"What did you say?!"

"He said that your skill in magic is goddamn dreadful" answered J'zargo. "Would you like some aloe for that burn?"

"Screw you all!" she declared walking away.

The Khajiit scoffed. "Stupid bitch."

* * *

"So you are participating in a tournament in a week?" asked Corbett leaning on Averil's dresser. It was pretty deep into the night and she had decided to council with him.

"Yes, and I'm wondering if I should use the Thu'um."

"Perhaps you should. How advanced are you in it?"

She pulled out the book. "Well, I've memorized about three. It's a lot harder then I imagined to get the magicka out."

"That's because you're reading them from a book. If you were reading them off a wall, it would be much easier. The walls you see are infused with magicka. That's only infused with ink."

"Yeah. I am nervous about the competition though."

Corbett gave a curious look. "Why?"

"Well, all the others have been practicing magic since they could walk. And I'm just a farm-girl who can cast a few spells."

"A farm-girl who is also a Dragonborn" pointed out the ancient mage.

"Well yeah but…"

Corbett laid a hand on her shoulder. "Averil, you are a Dragonborn. Your power is just beginning to be revealed. Just give it some time. But never, ever give up on yourself. Promise me that you won't."

She nodded. "I promise."

"Good. Now I need to keep doing some research."

He turned to leave, then stopped. "By the way, what do you plan to do while you are at the College?"

The question surprised her. She thought about it for a moment. "I hope to become Arch-Mage. Why do you ask?"

Corbett sighed. "I was hoping you would just use the lessons here to help you become Dragonborn. I do hope someone will try to kill the dragons plaguing these lands."

"There are ten of them. I think at least one of them is doing something."

"Probably. But I do wish you luck in your endeavors."

**One thing that you should never do: Never underestimate a female.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Happy new Year!**

**Now I hope nobody gets mad at the classic "Tournament" thing I added. I figured that a little more exposure to the magic community was needed.**

"J'zargo doesn't know about you all, but he is killing everyone in that competition" stated J'zargo smiling.

Onmund looked at him. "I hope you can back that shit up. You're writing a damn big check, better hope that thing don't bounce."

"J'zargo's checks never bounce, for there is always money in this metaphorical bank."

The Nord grinned. "Well let's see it then. I wonder how this whole tournament thing will work out though."

Just then Tolfdir arrived, carrying a large scroll. He looked at them and all nodded. "Good. I am glad to see you are all here. Now, I am sure you have heard of the Proelium we are having here. Now, I think I need to explain the rules."

He unfurled the scroll and began reading. "Rule number one: There shall be no fighting outside of the matches. Rule two: There will be no intentional killing inside a match. However, mistakes are excepted. Rule three: There will only be two people in one match. No other third-party may intervene except for the proctors. Rule four: A match may be interrupted if a proctor deems the one of the competitors can no longer continue. Rule five: Any weapon may be brought to the field, but only if it can be carried by the person wielding it and it has been registered beforehand with a proctor. Rule six: If a competitor has been deemed unable to continue, no further damage may be done to them or risk losing the tournament. And rule seven: No third-party member can hand an item to a competitor with the intentions of making the receiver lose. This includes giving fake weapons or scrolls."

He took a deep breath and rolled up the scroll. "Well, that's about it."

"How many people will be in this tournament?" asked J'zargo.

"We currently have ten participants. Four of them are you all, two are from the College of Whispers, and four more from the Synod."

"Excellent. J'zargo hopes they are entertaining."

"Oh they will be. I have personally seen all of them. You may be outmatched my Khajiit student."

"There is no problem. J'zargo will triumph as he always has."

"Always has? This is the first time you've ever been in this competition" pointed out Onmund.

"Oh, and you say that like you have been in it."

"Actually I have. I went all the way to the College of Whispers to take it, and lost. That's why I've aspired to be this damn good."

"Who beat you?" inquired Brelyna.

"Some asshole named Neuken. Freaking Redguard if you can believe it. He wielded a goddamn scimitar with the best of them. Used a full on Wall of Flames against me."

"I shall scrape out his eyes with my claws" promised the Khajiit.

"Naw. I got something here that will take him out."

Onmund lifted a staff. "Staff of Ice Storm. This thing will drain him so fast, he won't be able to catch up to me."

"Well Khajiit wishes you luck. But I will show no mercy to you if we fight."

"Likewise, J'zargo."

Brelyna looked nervous. "I'm not sure I can stack up to those guys at the Synod. They do collect all those little artifacts that give them an edge."

"An edge is no good if it is a dull one" noted J'zargo.

"That almost sounded like philosophy" warned Averil. "That means you care about it."

"It is truth, not philosophy."

"I guess your right then."

"Do you plan on using Shouts in your matches Breton?"

The female human thought about it. "I think so. But only as a last resort."

"Good idea" replied Onmund. "Wouldn't want to reveal your trump card too early."

The Khajiit nonchalantly flicked his claws out and examined them. "I hope they are expecting a fight. For I shall give it to them."

**I am really sorry for the shortness, but I will update soon to make up for this.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Now I am sure some of you are thinking: Will this story end after this tournament? The answer, is no. This is just a huge chunk of it. Enjoy the chapter.**

"Well, that looks like them" stated Onmund leaning on the wall.

Down in the town of Winterhold, a carriage had pulled outside the borders. It was fully canopied and made of a dark wood. On the sides were painted the symbols of the Synod, a swirl inside of a triangle. Multiple people stepped out, but the most prominent were the four people bringing up the rear.

"That's him isn't he?" asked J'zargo pointing to one of them. From his vantage point at the roof of the College, he had a great view.

Onmund nodded. "Yes. That is Neuken."

Neuken was indeed a Redguard, but did not fit his racial profile. He wore a long black robe with accents at the shoulders and feet. At his hip was a long silver scimitar that gleamed against the snow. His head was completely shaven and bandages were wrapped around his forehead.

"He looks like a douchebag" noted Brelyna.

"He is."

"Well the look suits him."

"J'zargo wishes to punch him in the face."

"Don't do that outside the arena."

"You have a point."

Someone walked beside them, eyeing the company of mages below. "Yes. I agree. That Redguard looks like a jerk."

Averil turned. She didn't recognize him or his companion. "Who are you?"

The original man smiled. He wore a mask that concealed the top half of his face, but it was fairly obvious he was Altmer. "I am Eronalo. My friend here is Krag gro-Luob. Please excuse his silence. He prefers not to talk."

Krag nodded firmly. He was an Orc, an oddity among Mages, but was at least not arrogant about it. He wore a long brown robe that was very simple with no markings on it. His hood too was simple and went to his brow. His mask was the same as Eronalo's, but designed for the contours of an Orc face.

"Are you two from the College of Whispers?" asked Brelyna.

"Why yes we are my sweet, beautiful Dunmer. We like to come unannounced for the most part, but our teacher is probably talking to your headmaster."

"Teacher? You possess only one?" inquired J'zargo.

"Yes honored Khajiit. Our system is different from your own. Instead of multiple teachers, we receive one primary tutor. He teaches us up to Adept-level spells in every class, where we then go to other schools at our wish."

"It doesn't sound so different" noted Onmund. "But what is your teacher like?"

"Oh, he is nice enough. He is an Imperial, which is fairly weird among magical society. I respect him though. His name is Corvus, in case you were wondering."

"He is good man" spoke Krag.

Onmund nodded. "Our master is Tolfdir, a Nord. He is a nice old man, but I would prefer if he wasn't so concerned with our safety."

"Well, magic is rather explosive" defended Eronalo.

"True. But nobody got anywhere by following the rules."

The Altmer shrugged. "I suppose your logic is supreme. I just know that I have my entire life to study magic. So there is no need to rush it."

"It is that attitude that makes good advisors, not leaders" stated J'zargo.

"If that is my role in life, than let it be so."

Krag put a hand on his shoulder and the elf nodded. "Well, I am afraid I must go. It was a pleasure talking to you all."

They two left and Onmund looked at his fellow classmates. "I didn't even hear them come up."

"Neither did J'zargo."

"That's pretty damn spooky to me."

Averil looked at where they had come from. "I wonder what kind of magic they can use."

"Well it can include anything, coming from the College of Whispers" answered Onmund. "They approve of all forms of magic, even necromancy. I just hope they don't bring in anything we haven't seen."

"J'zargo has been to the College" stated the Khajiit. "He did not learn anything in two weeks, just spells he already knew. They can't even reveal anything without making sure you have no outside contacts. It was very annoying."

"They seemed like the kind who would enjoy that kind of life" noted Averil.

"Well that is great for them. But J'zargo will be forced to cream them. Which is a shame. He actually liked them."

Just then the four from the Synod appeared, with Neuken being the supposed leader. He looked at the foreign students before him and smiled.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Onmund. How's the leg healing up?"

The Nord growled. "Nice and well thank you. Just nice enough so I can shove it up your ass."

"Oh, feisty. Why the hard feelings? Oh right, I chopped off your leg. That does make people angry."

Two of the others with him were smiling approvingly at his behavior. One was actually rather disgusted by this.

"Let's just get to the dorm Neuken" complained the one member who wasn't smiling. He was a Bosmer with orange hair and a goatee. His tunic was aged yellow along with his pants. "I'm too damn tired to meet these blokes."

"Shut up Vervelin!" snapped the Redguard. "We deserve to meet these people. After all, we are going to be beating them senseless in this competition."

At this J'zargo gave a long coughing fit that was obviously faked. This caught Neuken's attention quickly. "Something you want to say cat?"

"Not really. It's just that I'm allergic to bullshit."

Everyone laughed at this, even the other members of the Synod. A quick glare from Neuken and they shut up.

The Redguard pointed at him. "Carpet."

"Sand-Muncher."

Neuken snarled. "Furred-walking Skooma dealer."

"Thick-skulled, ignorant, culturally-backwards brute."

"Dishonest, unworthy second-class animal!"

"Idiotic, warring, slow-brained darkie!"

"Both of you shut up!" thundered Vervelin. "I want to get some fucking sleep, so let's just go Neuken."

The Redguard spat, barely missing J'zargo's shoes. "Fine by me. I'm tired of this anyway."

He looked the Khajiit in the eyes. "See ya later future-wall-trophy."

"Count on it piss-drinking drifter!"

The four Synod members walked off and J'zargo scoffed. "Assholes. All of them. I agree completely with you Onmund."

"I knew you would."

**Damn J'zargo!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A little information on this tournament: It is a huge chunk of this story, but I do hope to move on. And some of the characters will return in later additions. Details will be revealed later, so just enjoy the present stuff.**

Corbett the Black looked at his newest partner, eyeing her attire. "What do you think?"

She admired her new gear. He had somehow gotten ahold of special black robes that had golden edges around them. He also gave her two enchanted rings, one for Alteration, the other for Restoration.

"I like it" she concluded flipping the hood over her head. It was attached to a cloak that was wrapped by a piece of cloth around her neck.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Averil. Remember what I taught you. Do not go in for the first move. Wait until the time is right."

She scoffed. "Chill man. The tournament's in three days. I memorized those lessons. You practically chiseled them in my head."

"True enough. Now, I have one last gift for you."

He reached into his robe and pulled out a sheathed sword. It was about two feet long and appeared to be Elven in style.

"A sword I wielded in my youth. Now I have no need for weapons of metal. Take it."

She smiled and took it. She pulled it out of the sheath and admired the naked blade. It was a shiny silver and radiated blue.

"The sword will absorb the magicka of the victim" he explained. "And check this out."

He gently took his sword back, then suddenly dropped it.

Instantly, the sword returned to the sheath as if drawn by magnets.

"A magical enchantment I devised. When you have to fight dirty against another dirty fighter, it pays to know where your sword is."

She hugged him. "Thank you Corbett."

He hugged back, although a little more gently. "I am proud of you Averil. You remind me of myself in my younger days. While I do not agree with your dreams of being Arch-Mage, I will still support you."

She released the hug and looked at him. "Why is that? I mean, there are nine other Dragonborn. Surely you can just find one who is willing to hunt the dragons."

Corbett smiled. "I have, well, a friend. He is doing something about the dragons."

"Is he a Dragonborn?"

"Yes. But I cannot let him meet you. He's very, well, unsocial."

"Fair enough. Now, what is the point of this book?"

She pulled out the first book he had given her, the one with the dragon symbol emblazoned on it. "I mean, this one doesn't even open."

He smiled. "I know this. It will open, but only in time. I will let you know when it will."

She shrugged and put it back on her nightstand. "Now, I probably should check on my classmates. I hope your job is keeping you entertained."

He turned to leave, but not before showing a grin. "My job is always entertaining."

* * *

When she arrived into their common meeting area, Onmund and the others were already conversing with the two students from the College of Whispers. Well, only Eronalo was actually speaking. Krag was just listening intently.

"Now what about that Imperial?" asked J'zargo to the Altmer.

"Well I don't know much about her. She seems to specialize in Frost magic if my observations are correct. Other than that, I have no idea."

"Damn" muttered Onmund. "I was hoping for any advantage possible. But I am glad you have something."

"Thank you honorable Nord."

"Are you all discussing the students from the Synod?" asked Averil settling into her worn seat.

"Yes we were my beautiful Breton" replied the Altmer. "I can relay this information again, but I am sure your classmates can do the same."

"Yep" responded Brelyna. "You see, Neuken is an Expert Alteration and Destruction mage. However, his Restoration skill is very poor. Now that other one, Vervelin, is a Master Illusion mage."

Averil gave her a sideways glance. "That lazy son-of-a-bitch Bosmer is a Master-leveled illusionist?"

"Believe it or not."

"What about the other two? The Imperial chick and the Argonian?"

"We are not sure about the Imperial. It could be anything really. But we know that the Argonian specializes in Enchanting."

"That'll be interesting" muttered J'zargo. "J'zargo does not entirely know what sort of surprises this other beast could bring. His own skill in Enchanting is not too high."

"Well, this Argonian is pretty good" assured Eronalo. "Believe me."

"How do you know this?" asked Averil curiously.

The elf smiled slyly. "I sometimes get into places I shouldn't get into. And sometimes I look at things I'm not supposed to."

His grin then doubled in size. "But don't worry. I don't see TOO many things."

The Orc grunted and he glared at him. "Why do you grunt my friend?"

"It's nothing" replied Krag. "It's just that you actually see a lot more than you let on."

The Altmer punched him in the shoulder. "Stop trying to ruin my reputation! Everyone can hear the kind of tone you are having!"

"Maybe" muttered the Orc.

"There you go again!"

Someone cleared their throat and the students looked up.

Ancano was standing in the doorway of their little meeting room, wearing his traditional Thalmor robes. Except for the new scarf below his left eye, he looked completely normal.

"I hate to interrupt the little meeting here" he stated towering above them, "but have any of you seen a package come through here?"

"A package?" repeated Onmund.

"Yes. A package. I figured I'd have to confirm what I was talking about to at least one of you. Now, have you seen it?"

"Nope" replied Averil.

"Nada" answered Brelyna.

"No" responded J'zargo.

"Haven't seen it" added Onmund.

The Thalmor turned to the two students from the College of Whispers. "What about you two?"

Eronalo shrugged. "Sorry good sir. But I am unaware of any packages coming through here."

The Orc looked up. "I know of a package. My master, Corvus, said he had something to take here to give to a Thalmor agent. I am thinking he was talking about you."

"He was. Where is your master?"

"I believe he is in the Hall of the Elements."

"Thank you."

The Thalmor walked off and Eronalo looked at them. "Is he a teacher over here?"

Onmund scoffed. "Thank Akatosh, no. He's an advisor to the Arch-Mage, but between you and me, he's also something else."

"Like what?"

The Nord shrugged. "No idea. I just feel something off with him. We all think so. It's just that Savos doesn't see it."

Eronalo nodded. "I agree. He seemed too, off. Like whatever was in that package was gravely important."

"Probably something he's using for his experiments" muttered J'zargo.

Brelyna looked at him. "Oh don't bring this up again! It's really getting old."

"J'zargo is sure of it! Ancano is experimenting on human subjects underneath the College! He is testing…something."

"Do you have any proof?" asked Eronalo.

"No J'zargo does not. But I sometimes see him eyeing us like we're frogs in a biology class. He is a sociopathic surgeon."

"Let me ask you something" began Krag. "If he was experimenting on human subjects, what would he use them for?"

"Ugh…J'zargo has no idea."

"Three things. Testing spells, alchemy effects, and observing the human physiology. He does not strike me as an alchemist, mainly since he would curl his nose at half the ingredients, and he doesn't look much like a spell-caster. And if he is as demented as you say, he would not be able to hide the stench of human blood, flesh, or urine that would certainly be on his skin after he experimented on the subjects."

"That makes sense, but…"

"And something else. Most surgeons are marked by their slim fingers and small finger-tips. His hands were more suited towards a spell-caster, with small palms and very long and large fingers. His thumb was also very blocky; something a surgeon would despise to have for it would be difficult to use a scalpel. And if he did experiment on human subjects, eventually he would move to surgery. Now due to his personality, he seems like the kind of person who only invests in something if they have natural skill in it already. So if his hands were not suited for surgery, he probably wouldn't even attempt it."

J'zargo sighed. "I guess you are right."

"Don't take it personally Khajiit. It may be possible that he practices necromancy. He did have a scent of ash to him."

"It is strange how J'zargo does not smell this."

"Your nose has begun to deaden itself from the cold" explained the Orc. "Mine is still used to Cyrodiil air, and is a lot more sensitive."

Eronalo looked at a small device he had. "Oh my we may be late to the scheduled meeting we have with Corvus! We need to go Krag!"

"Of course" replied the Orc standing up.

The Altmer smiled at the four. "Well, three days till the tournament. Good luck to you all."

They all said their goodbyes, and J'zargo looked at the others. "Speaking of which, what happens if one of us go against another?"

They all stopped. That was indeed a difficult question.

"We fight the same way we'd fight the others" answered Onmund. "I am going to the final rounds and creaming Neuken, so I won't let anything stand in my way. Now if you don't want to fight, just stand down. I am sure they allow surrenders."

Averil nodded at his choice. She then punched him in the shoulder. "I'm glad to hear you won't show any mercy. Because I won't either."

He smiled. "Good. Then I can legally hit a girl if she hits first."

**I personally agree with this philosophy. A woman is still a woman until she places herself in a neutral role (such as in a brawl). Then all former female rules are dropped.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Man I am really hating coming back from the holiday break. It sucks ass. But whatever, no point complaining about something I can't fix.**

Onmund looked at his teammates around the table. "So, today's the day."

They all nodded. The day of tournament was today. They were unaware of how the matches were selected or what would happen.

"J'zargo hopes that he will not have to fight any of you" stated the Khajiit. "While he barely believes that he is saying this, he still would regret harming any of his teammates."

"That is quite possible the first non-sarcastic-completely-honest compliment you have given me" pointed out Brelyna slightly stunned.

"J'zargo just does not feel the need to compliment if nothing extraordinary happens. That is his opinion."

"You're still an arrogant asshole, even when you're being nice" muttered Onmund.

"J'zargo cannot deny his own personality traits. They are a part of him."

Their conversation was interrupted by the two students from the College of Whispers walking inside. They both appeared the same, except for the Orc. He now had a giant vase on his back that was strapped with leather strips. It appeared to be made of Dwarven metal and sealed at the top with four locks.

Eronalo looked at them and smiled. "It is good to see you are all well. I hope that we will have a good fight, if we do end up fighting."

Krag gave a simple nod.

The Nord extended a hand and the Altmer shook it. The Orc did not, but Eronalo explained, "In his religion, he cannot shake hands with those that aren't close friends or family. But he will if you defeat him in battle."

"Then I hope you're ready to deliver it when I do beat you" said Onmund grinning.

The Orc gave a grin. "I hope it is true. I grow tired of never losing."

Eronalo laughed. "No, but seriously, he has never lost."

J'zargo exposed his teeth. "That is good. J'zargo has never lost either."

Before anything else could be said, Tolfdir appeared. He looked at the six mages and smiled. "Good, you are all here. I was afraid I would have to track down a rowdy apprentice who thought of running off."

"I'll never run on my day of victory" replied Onmund clamping his fist into his hand.

The Alteration master chuckled. "Well, it is time I lead you to the arena. Please follow me."

"Wait, an arena?" questioned Averil. "Aren't we doing it here?"

"Oh heavens no! We couldn't do something that harmful to the College! But we do have alternatives. Follow me if you want to find out."

* * *

They reached the courtyard and Tolfdir looked around. "Ah, this is good enough. "

He pulled out a scroll and opened it. Clearing his throat, he began to read.

"Avanonali Treja Kala."

A white flash appeared and in front of the master grew a large portal. It was blue in color and appeared similar to a Conjuration summoning.

It expanded to five feet in diameter and Tolfdir put away the scroll. "Now please, step through. Don't worry, nothing to worry about. It's a simple portal after all. You will be fine."

The others shrugged and began walking through.

Averil took a deep breath and stepped inside. The air was pulled from her lungs and she gasped as she entered a completely different environment on the other side.

Once her other foot had settled, she felt the entire new environment around her. It was a lot warmer than the College and also darker.

She looked around. Of course it was darker. It was in a cave.

It was a very large cavern, nearly a mile around. It has a large ceiling that extended far into the distance. The light that was existent was from several orbs that appeared to be Magelight spells.

"This is incredible" muttered the Breton.

J'zargo nodded. "J'zargo agrees. This is not at all what he was expecting."

Onmund looked at them. "I've seen this before and it still amazes me."

Tolfdir looked out at the cavern. "I agree. It is quite beautiful."

He pointed. "That is where the arena is."

It was indeed. It was a large coliseum that was at least a hundred feet wide. It was about four stories tall and almost appeared natural. The stones were cracked and mud brown in color.

"That's cool" commented Eronalo. "We have one that is impressive, but it's not completely separate from our College. This is something extraordinary."

"I have visited your College" responded Tolfdir walking towards the arena. "It is very grand in design. But I got the sense that the exterior was a placebo."

"It is. We try to prevent anyone from guessing what we really are about. That is why the windows are on the second story."

The Orc chuckled. "It is true. It is not dark though. The experiments make up for it."

Just then Nirya appeared from the arena, out of breath. She looked up at them and scoffed. "It's about time! You all are late!"

Onmund turned to Tolfdir, who shrugged. "Is it really important when we show up? Just as long as we show up on the same day."

The bitch mage rolled her eyes. "Master Tolfdir, you are always so damn absent-minded. Anyway, come on. The ones from the Synod are already here."

The Orc shifted the vase on his back and began walking a little faster. Eronalo smiled and looked at the others. "He gets a little excited when he gets closer to battle."

"Excited? I thought he was just itching his tongue with his teeth" countered Onmund. "He barely moved his mouth."

"He usually doesn't."

They began to hurry along, reaching the arena in a minute. Nirya walked off into a side-door and Tolfdir looked at the others. "Through this door is the arena. You will all be presented before the audience before the matches are made."

"Wait, an audience?" asked Onmund.

"Ah, yes. Why do we think we need an arena for this?"

"Ugh, dramatization?"

The Alteration mage thought about it. "Fair enough. But this large of an audience has never been seen before. We decided charging twice as much for admission was a good idea."

J'zargo smiled. "Ah, now you are thinking like Khajiit."

The master gave a final smile to them. "Now, I wish you all good luck. And may this be worth the price of admission."

He left them and Onmund shrugged. "Well guys, let's go."

They continued the corridor and came inside the arena. It was made of dirt and had a few rocks and plants around the edges. In the center were the four from the Synod, standing there, all looking in the same direction. They now wore attire for battle, including Neuken's scimitar.

They joined them and Eronalo looked around. "So, what happens now?'

"Hush" ordered the Argonian. He looked up and nodded ahead of him. "That's what we're waiting for."

They looked up and saw that a large platform was growing from the inside of the arena. It was on the final story and was about twenty feet wide. On it was several teachers and masters from the three magical institutions. At the front were three podiums, all of them the same size. The two on either side were filled, presumably with the heads of the institutions, but the one in the center was empty.

The stands for the audience were built into the walls around the arena and were jammed packed. Many were seated in anticipation, practically at the edges of their seats.

Suddenly, a large fissure opened up in the air, like the air just tore in half. It gaped to nearly fifty feet wide and looked like an open wound.

Then something fell from the hole and landed on the platform. Then that something stood and raised its arms.

The crowd cheered. It was Savos Aren, the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is good for you all to be here!" he said magically enhancing his voice to echo across the arena. "I am glad to see so many faces just waiting for this tournament! You might not know this, but this is only the fifth time this tournament has been available to the public! But that is because we didn't know how interested you all were in this!"

Averil looked out at the audience and saw that while a few were magnetized to his words, the others were busying doing something. It looked like they were reading a book.

"What are they doing?" she asked to anyone.

Again, the Argonian answered. "They are placing bets. They have stats on all of us for information. Certain third-party companies ask the colleges to host a gambling program during this competition. It is a great way to make money during this event."

"Money-grubbing bastards" muttered Vervelin.

"It's just another way to keep the stakes high" responded Onmund. "I like it. Adds some interest with the audience."

"Ah, interest. Just another word for empathy" replied Neuken. "Which makes defeat all the more frustrating."

"I hope you like defeat" stated J'zargo smiling. "Because I'm going to shove it down your throat."

"I am going to enjoy killing you, so much" said Neuken without even looking at him.

Savos looked down at the apprentices, who immediately snapped upwards at faced him. "Now, these are the students. They will be participating in one-on-one matches against one another. The competition will have five matches of primaries, then two secondary matches. Finally, two final matches will be held. If this is confusing, just study the pamphlets that were given to you."

He clapped his hands and a large stone rose in front of him. It was ten feet wide and appeared to be made from marble.

"Now, the first match will be picked, right now!"

He clapped his hands twice and the stone began to flash violently. It grew so bright that everyone had to cover their eyes to protect themselves.

Once it settled, they all looked up at what the stone had said.

"Well, well, well. J'zargo did not imagine he would be going first."

Written on the stone in glowing blue letters were two names: J'zargo and Ater Tenebra.

"So who's the lucky person?" asked the Khajiit looking at the line of students.

The Imperial girl smiled at him. "So I get to fight the carpet? Goody, easy stuff up front."

"Oh Alkosh I will have fun beating you senseless Cyrodiil girl."

Savos looked at the stone and nodded. "Now, may everyone except the two here please walk to the left. You will find a set of stairs and a way into a special balcony for you all. Now, let us get this rolling!"

The other eight walked to the left and came across a set of stairs. A quick journey up them and they found themselves inside a small room with an open wall that faced inside the arena.

The two mages stood facing each other, glaring holes into the other's head. Savos noticed this and decided to get to it on the announcing bit.

"Now, the first match: J'zargo and Ater Tenebra! Begins, now!"

**And then it began.**


	17. Chapter 17

**So up first is J'zargo, my favorite character. Let's go!**

J'zargo leaped forward and kicked high, hitting the Imperial in the jaw. He landed and swung, catching her with his claws. Flipping her head-over-heels, he resumed his battle stance.

Ater spat and got up. "So you make up for your lack in magic with freaking fisticuffs? Clever."

"No, it's just that I don't want to expose my best cards early."

The girl lifted her hands and charged up a spell. "Well I haven't even drawn a card yet."

She thrust out her hands and a massive fireball roared towards the Khajiit. He dodged to the left and was met with a large spear of ice.

It plunged into his shoulder and he groaned in pain. Gripping it firmly he ripped it out before it froze his arm.

"_Damn it" _he thought to himself, _"I don't want to reveal my magic, but this girl will tear me apart. I need a strategy."_

He pulled something from his cloak and threw it at her. She raised her arms to defend it, but wasn't expecting it to explode into a giant ball of smoke.

"Ugh, piss!" she yelled trying to clear it.

J'zargo sprinted into the trees and leaped into one quicker than most humans could. Settling inside of it and remaining still, he thought over his options.

"_She's obviously well versed in Destruction magic judging by those two spells. I need to test something."_

He pulled out a small crossbow and loaded it with a purple bolt. He raised it and carefully aimed at a tree on the other end of the arena.

Pulling the trigger, he released the special bolt.

It gave off a breeze of air and rustled the nearby leaves. The Imperial turned towards it and raised her hands.

"Ha! Got you!"

She released a torrent of fireballs and torched all the trees in the general area.

"_Hmph. Just as I predicted. She won't try any of her tricks. Time to set one of my own."_

He loaded another bolt, but this one had a string tied to end. He fired it and hit another tree on the edge. He loaded a second stringed bolt and fired.

By now the girl was getting frustrated. "Oh come on! Is it an Invisibility spell, or something? Get the hell out of here you walking rug!"

He put the crossbow in his cloak and leaped out of tree. Tossing a knife, he managed to slice it across her shoulder.

She winced and fired a bolt of lightning. He was still moving though and completely dodged it. Throwing another smoke bomb at his feet, he managed to sneak into the trees again.

"Not falling for it!" she yelled bathing the area around her with flames.

He fired three more bolts and smiled. Perfect.

He pulled out a small scroll and wrapped it around the nearest string. Making sure it was tight, he jumped down and stood up.

"How's it going?"

Ater turned. "You are one slippery bastard. But your little tricks can't protect you forever!"

She placed her hands together and through them out in every direction.

A wild, blazing fire storm revolved around her and engulfed the entire arena. J'zargo raised a dual-handed Ward and crouched behind it.

She smiled. "You can't win! I've got you!"

"No miss. J'zargo has you."

She stopped and he pointed upwards.

She looked up and saw that there were some strings in a large pattern over her. The strings were not on fire, but were bursting with lightning.

Then it fell and collapsed on her body.

She screamed as the electricity coursed through her and destroyed her magicka supply. Then her mind decided that unconsciousness was the wisest choice for her and it commanded the body to do so.

J'zargo smiled and stood tall. Savos stared down at the apprentice. Never before had any of contestants actually won a match without using magicka.

"And because his competitor cannot continue, the winner is J'zargo from the College of Winterhold!"

The crowd cheered and the Khajiit took a bow. "Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all day. Try the veal."

Neuken scowled at the feline's antics. "Arrogant asshole."

Vervelin shrugged. "Whatever. He's just enjoying the moment."

Onmund scoffed. "No, he's really a self-centered bastard."

Averil nodded. "I like to think we all are."

Just then the Khajiit appeared, drinking a large bottle of liquid healing. He burped and wiped his mouth.

"So, who's next?" he asked tossing aside the empty flask.

"Don't know yet" replied Brelyna. "I hope it's interesting though."

Savos Aren raised the stone again and looked out to the crowd. "Now, for the next match!"

The stone began to glow, then exploded into brilliant light. Once it settled, the Arch-Mage announced the names.

"Krag gro-Luob and Brelyna!"

The Dunmer raised an eyebrow. "Well I'll be damned. I get to fight the Orc."

Krag adjusted the vase on his back and nodded at her. "May this be fun."

**And it will be.**


	18. Chapter 18

Krag lowered the vase and placed it on the ground. "You won't be able to do anything with the tools I have."

Brelyna smiled. "Well I'm not much for bragging, but I won't lose to you."

The Arch-Mage looked at them and raised his arms. "Now match 2, Krag gro-Luob versus Brelyna, begins now!"

Brelyna threw out her arm and blasted the vase with a gust of air. It flew through the air and rolled into the wall.

She sprinted to him and grabbed him by the collar. Raising her hand, she blasted him with a Frostbite spell.

"I really don't care what you have in that little vase, but it makes no difference, now does it?"

Krag scoffed and punched her in the face. She backed up and clenched her fist.

Leaping forward, slammed into his knee, dropping him to the ground. She went behind him and placed him into a sleeper hold.

"Give up" she ordered clenching the hold. "I can snap your neck right now. Surrender or I will break it."

"Heh, you wanna bet?"

"You wanna die?!"

The Orc spat. "Bitch. You're the one who's going to die."

**SNAP!**

Krag's head dropped; his neck no longer able to support it. Brelyna scoffed. "Idiot. I went too far and broke it."

* * *

Averil looked over at Eronalo, who was watching from the booth. "Did you see that shit? She killed him!"

"No she didn't" muttered the Altmer.

"What?"

He gave a knowing smile. "He's too clever for that"

* * *

Brelyna felt the body of the Orc slump and she heard something odd. It sounded like burning.

She looked into the Orc's face and saw that it was burning off. Revealed underneath was bone, and rotting flesh.

"What the hell?" she muttered.

Once it got far enough, her eyes widened.

"Dead Thrall."

The vase that had been dumped earlier burst into infinitesimal pieces and the real Krag stood from the remains.

"You all underestimate those of us who like to listen instead of talk" stated the Orc standing up. "But now you realize, our silence is our victory."

The Dead Thrall stood; its artificial skin finally off. It revealed that it was indeed a Draugr Scourge, one that was very tall. It drew a sword and sprinted at Brelyna.

She raised her spells and fired dual-waves of fire. It crumbled, and then exploded into magicka.

"A decoy!" she yelled turning around. Nothing.

She kept looking, trying to figure out where the attack would come from. Then a sick idea came into her head and she looked up.

A boot smashed into the top of her head and sent her falling forward. She was out like a light.

Krag landed smoothly from his overhead kick and cracked his neck. It was very difficult to fight against those smaller than him, but he managed.

Savos looked in wonder at the student from the College of Whispers. He had heard tales of a master Conjurer there, but never would've guessed that the Orc was the one.

"The winner is: Krag gro-Luob!"

The crowd applauded warmly and he gave a simple nod. Walking back into the competitor booth, he stood beside his teammate.

"That was entertaining. That Dunmer is quite the nimble one" he said to her teammates.

"Yes. J'zargo hopes he fights you" stated the Khajiit.

"You don't stand a chance" countered Neuken. "That Orc is a genius, obviously. You're a damn arrogant bastard."

"Well then that makes two of us."

The Redguard scoffed. "Me? I am confident. I simply believe that you all are lower than me in skill."

"You're a douchebag" muttered Vervelin.

"What did you say motherfucker?!"

"Third match: Vervelin versus Onmund!"

The Bosmer raised an eyebrow. "So I get to fight a Nord. With a Skyrim audience. Why does it matter? They'll still boo me later."

"Let's just get this show on the road" replied Onmund walking into the arena.

They walked into the field and Savos looked at them. Now this would be interesting.

"BEGIN!"

Onmund leaped backwards and analyzed everything about the elf. His stance, the distance between them, the locations of his hands.

"Checking me out are you? I am a handsome elf, so no judging."

"Shut your damn mouth" replied the Nord.

Vervelin sighed. "Ugh, you're one of those guys who thinks he can outwit me. Oh well."

He pulled out a small knife and threw it. Onmund easily dodged and looked at the knife. It had a small bell attached to it and was making a light noise.

"Heh, the old noise conditioning trick? You think just because you attach bells to your knives that I won't hear the ones that don't have them, right?"

"Maybe. To be honest, I've been too bored to get rid of them."

The Nord smiled. "Well come on. I'm only getting older."

He heard a ringing behind him and his eyes widened. _"What? Behind me?"_

He turned and saw the string between the thrower and the bell. Then he heard Vervelin drawing two knives and he whirled around.

Both knives trailed into his skin and one nearly nicked his artery. He spat and wiped the blood from his shoulder.

"You're smart" commented the Nord. "You attach strings to the bells to disguise your technique. But if that's the extent of it, then it really isn't a great trick."

Vervelin smirked. "You think I can only throw knives? Didn't that little bitch from the College of Whispers say that I was a Master Illusionist?"

Onmund stopped and the Bosmer smiled. "Oh yeah, I knew he was there. He's smarter than I am, really. He's the Master Illusionist. He just did that to keep you off his tail. I don't have much skill."

"That dirty bastard" muttered Onmund.

"Oh don't feel too bad. He did give me some information about you too. Especially about your little teammate, Averil. So she can Shout eh? I can't wait to see if she can scream."

"Shut your fucking mouth!" roared the Nord.

"Or what? In case you haven't noticed, you're kind of stuck."

Onmund looked around and saw that a whole new set of knives had been thrown around him. They all had strings attached and were wrapped around his body.

"How did you…? I was talking to you the entire time!"

"I may not be a Master Illusionist" stated the Bosmer walking to him, "But I didn't say that I completely lacked it. Though technically, this is Alteration."

He threw a knife in the air and it flew at Onmund. Since he couldn't dodge, he braced himself for the blow.

It stopped right before his face and he looked at the Bosmer. "What are you doing?"

Vervelin sighed. "Ugh, this competition is bogus. Even if I beat you, Neuken will drop-kick my ass out of the door. So, here you go."

The knife dropped and sliced through the bonds around the Nord. The Bosmer flicked his wrist and the knives returned to him.

"Savos Aren!" he yelled turning to the Arch-Mage. "I surrender my match!"

The Dunmer master was shocked. No one had ever surrendered. They always allowed the option, but no one in all five years of the competition willingly lost. He shrugged. There's always a first time.

"The winner by default, is Onmund!"

The crowd booed at Vervelin, who shrugged and kept walking. The Nord was swearing furiously at everything around him.

"Motherfucking win by default? Cock-sucking cum drinker, I'll give you a fucking win by default!"

He kicked a wall and sat angrily in the booth. Neuken looked at his teammate and smiled.

"I always knew you were smart enough to not fight me."

"I just don't a shit about this" admitted the Bosmer sitting down.

Averil looked at Onmund and shrugged. "At least you can continue to fight Neuken."

He smiled, despite his anger. "Yeah, that is true."

She gave a wild grin. "But not if I beat him first."

He laughed. "You're so on."

**I would be so pissed off if someone just gave up when I was so serious about a competition. Seriously I'd flip a shit.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Now I must comment on a review I got from NeoResilience (I apologize if I spelled your name wrong). Now while I must agree with your comment about the fights being like Naruto, I have to say that the fights' pace were completely intentional. I wanted the fights to feel more intellectual instead of just two people slinging spells. But there is a good chunk of that later anyway. Certain parts, like Krag's vase and the bell strings, those were intended as sort of base to set the general mood. But the fights do get more magically enthralled as it goes on. They all just decided to not use magic at first so that they didn't reveal any trump cards. But that changes in the later matches as they all become aware of each others' abilities. Now I apologize for the long explanation, but this sort of a comment needed a good answer.**

Savos looked at the others beside him, smiling as he did so. "Quite interesting, don't you agree?"

The headmaster of the College of Whispers nodded. Like his students, he let his actions speak louder than his words. The assistant headmaster simply commented, "It is very good to see such capable young mages."

The ones at the Synod, however, weren't so silent. "I think it's a damn good tournament!" roared the Grand Aristocrat of Justice. His two companions, the Aristocrat of Peace and the Aristocrat of Joy, were conversing with the pamphlets, trying to figure out the stats of the competitors.

Tolfdir looked at his master and nodded. "I must agree. I am so glad that our side is doing so well."

Ancano scowled. "Doing well? That Dunmer whore nearly died back there."

"I would appreciate if you didn't refer to Brelyna as a whore Mr. Ancano" stated the Alteration master slightly angry.

"Whatever. But the only one who won anything was that Khajiit, and that's because that Imperial was talentless."

"What did you say about my student?!" roared the Grand Aristocrat. "I'll smack the elf out of you!"

Savos held up his hand. "Don't worry good sir. My friend here will not pass such a comment again."

He turned to Ancano. "Now, I would appreciate if you would stop criticizing the other students. Some of these men here are very ill-tempered."

"Whatever."

Savos sighed and stood up to the crowd again. "Now, time for the fourth match!"

The stone rose upwards and began to flow. Flashing white, Savos read the name written on it.

"Averil versus Kar'shii!"

* * *

The Breton looked over at the Argonian. "If I'm not an idiot, you are my opponent."

"You are correct. Now I do wish to get this unpleasant business over with."

They walked down to the arena and set up stage for the act.

"You're a bit more cultured than everyone else on your team" noted Averil slightly confused.

"Someone had to be. I was the natural choice for the job."

She smiled. "It's a shame. I have to fight a gentleman."

"And it is a shame as well for me. I have to beat up such a pretty lady."

"Round four, begins, NOW!"

Averil lifted her hands and blasted a wave of lightning at Kar'shii. He nimbly dodged it and fired a spike of ice. She raised a ward and blocked it while charging up another spell.

"Come on Averil! Kick his freaking ass!" yelled Onmund. Apparently the last match had infuriated him so deeply that he decided to being cheering. J'zargo remained steadfast however, but he did seem to be smiling. Brelyna was finally up and moving and she too was cheering for her. Albeit a little less profanely then Onmund.

"Why don't you have anyone shouting for you?" she asked circling the Argonian.

"They know that I don't need encouragement Breton" replied the reptilian keeping his emotionless face. "They know that no matter what you do, this match is mine."

"Well then we'll just see about that."

Averil pulled out her magic sword and threw it in a deadly arc at Kar'shii's head. He ducked under it and smiled.

"Not that much of a throw."

"I didn't mean to hit you at first."

His eyes widened as he understood what she meant.

The sword smashed into the back of his head and he fell to the dirt.

Averil caught her sword smoothly and sprinted to the Argonian, who was lying face-first in the dirt.

Suddenly, he looked up and thrust out his hands, forming two fists. She felt herself stop in mid-stride and gasped. Somehow he was controlling her movements.

"Hmph. It seems that this technique does work" he spat out through the dirt.

"Alteration" she muttered to herself. "Goddamn it."

He gave a large grin. "Now let's see if I can squish you like a bug."

He began to bring his fists together and the pressure around her doubled. She groaned in pain and tried to break free.

"It is no use. My hold is too strong for your mere strength to break through. Surrender or I will crush you."

She felt her ribs begin to tighten and she knew they were seconds from snapping. So she did the one thing that made sense. Opening her mouth and looking at Kar'shii, she yelled three words.

"FUS RO DAH!"

A solid wall of air emitted from around her and caught the Argonian in its wake. He flew through the air and smashed into the stadium wall. Collapsing onto the floor, he groaned and looked up at her.

"Wow. That's some voice."

She shook off the weakened bonds and raised both of her hands. Lighting up with flames, she aimed them at him.

"It comes naturally."

She let loose with the fireballs and knocked the Argonian into next week. He passed out completely after the fifth one.

"Fuck yeah!" exclaimed Onmund.

"Awesome!" cheered Brelyna.

"Hmm" muttered J'zargo.

Savos Aren smiled. Barely two months into the College and she had such a skill in magic. Incredible.

"And the winner is: Averil!"

The crowd thundered with approval and she took a gracious bow. Although her face was completely red.

She went back into the booth and Onmund threw his arms around her. She was so startled that her heart stopped beating.

"That kicked fucking ass!" he said gently enough not to hurt her ears.

"Uh, thanks?" she said trying to hide the blush all over her face. Even after sustaining a knife to the face he was still handsome.

J'zargo nodded his approval. "This is good. J'zargo is glad that he will have company in the later matches. But make no mistake. This tournament, is his alone."

Brelyna sighed. "It's a shame that I won't be with you all. But the Orc did beat me fair and square."

The Nord unwrapped himself from Averil and put a hand on the Dunmer. "Don't think too much about it. The Orc is a genius in my opinion. I would've lost too."

"Yeah, like you lost to me last year" taunted Neuken.

"I will lodge my size ten foot into your size three ass darkie!" yelled Onmund charging him. Only a firm hand from the Orc stopped him.

The Nord looked at Krag in surprise. "What are you..?"

"Don't" spoke the Orc confidently. "If you fight outside of a match, you lose automatically. Both of you. Now just imagine it: You two facing off in the final rounds, one of you walking away victorious. Perhaps an old reputation will be refilled. Perhaps a new one will be forged. We will never know if you two fight now."

Onmund stopped. "You're right. I won't try to kill him then."

"Put definite emphasis on the word 'try'" replied the Redguard scoffing.

"Well Onmund, if you hit him, you get disqualified" stated Brelyna walking over to him. "But I've already lost. Which means I can do THIS!"

And with that, she raised her boot high behind her, and putting a near god-like force behind it, slammed it into Neuken's private regions with a sound that resembled glass breaking.

The Redguard's air turned to water and he collapsed to the ground. "You crazy bitch!" he groaned through the pain.

"It's Ms. Crazy Bitch to you" snapped Brelyna. "And don't forget it."

Vervelin had a nice content look on his face, while Kar'shii and Ater were smiling.

"Isn't anyone going to help me?" grunted Neuken holding his aching parts.

"Naw, you're so awesome. You can handle it" spoke the Bosmer.

"Fuck you" muttered the Redguard.

The stone above Savos flashed and the Arch-Mage yelled:

"Fifth match: Neuken Dorinto versus Eronalo!"

"Well how convenient" muttered the Altmer smiling at his pain-filled foe. "This could be, interesting."

"Goddamn it" groaned Neuken scowling.

**Now I have dedicated a forum to this story and all in its collection labeled Ways of the Dragonborn. If you have questions about this story and anything in it, just drop off a question or comment and I'll get to it.**


	20. Chapter 20

After finally getting to his feet and getting over the pain, Neuken was back on track. He would definitely smack the Dunmer bitch into another day when he was finished with Eronalo in front of him.

"So you were spying on me huh?" he stated looking disgusted at the Altmer. "Not only that, but you fed me shit information on them too, didn't ya? I should've seen it coming really."

"Yes, you should've" said Eronalo smiling. "Now, I think we have an anxious audience awaiting us. After all, we have the highest stats here."

Neuken grinned. "Yeah, although my man-junk is aching, I can win this. I could beat you bloody with two broken arms."

"You said the word 'can'" pointed out the Altmer. "That means you are losing confidence. That means you are accepting the fact that, just maybe, you aren't as great as you think."

"Shut the fuck up and let's get started."

"Round five, begins, NOW!"

Neuken gasped as something forced its way into his consciousness. It fogged his eyes with darkness and sent blasts of sound into his mind. He grabbed at his head and tried to clear it.

"What the hell is this?" he asked to no one in particular.

"You should've been paying attention" said Eronalo calmly. "Your Bosmer teammate did say that I was the Master Illusionist in this competition. But your arrogant-self believed that you didn't need to listen to what your teammates say. Isn't that right?"

Neuken dropped to his knees as the feeling intensified. It was like he was underwater and in complete darkness.

"Fuck!" he yelled feeling nauseous.

He grabbed his sword and tried to determine where Eronalo was.

"Raaagh!" he shouted throwing it as hard as he could.

The Altmer raised his eyebrows and leaped to the side. This had the additional effect of releasing the Redguard from the Illusion spell.

As soon as it was gone, Neuken sprinted at him, fists raised. He flared up a fire spell and sprayed at Eronalo. It did nothing, since the Altmer had a very high level Mage Armor on.

"Come on. Don't bring a knife to a sword fight."

Neuken reached out with his left hand and his scimitar flew into it.

"Speak of the devil" muttered Eronalo.

The Redguard began to swing wildly, roaring as he did so. The Altmer didn't even find this threatening as he dodged each one. While he was stepping, he kept taunting him.

"You have top-stats with this? This is pathetic. I have better skills with a blade and I haven't even picked up a sword in two months."

"Shut the hell up!" roared Neuken.

He raised up his free hand and a giant explosion of fire overwhelmed the area around him. Eronalo felt the flames bounce off his armor and feel the magicka weaken. He leaped backwards and smiled.

"Gotcha!" he yelled raising his arms. He began to swirl his arms in a circular fashion, taking control of the flames. They began to follow his commands and condensed into a ball. This ball was based around Neuken.

"Shit!" he yelled trying to escape the circle of magicka. It was about ten feet in diameter and slowly shrinking.

Then Eronalo clenched his fits and the ball shrank to the size of a melon.

Half-a-second later, it exploded violently, leveling a good chunk of the arena.

Neuken was lying on the ground on his back, his clothes smoking. His hair was messed up and his skin was covered in ash.

"How…how was that even possible?" he murmured to himself.

Eronalo looked down on him and smiled. "Had enough?"

Suddenly, a pillar of rock appeared beneath the Altmer and smashed into his chin. This pillar kept growing and sent him into the air.

"No" replied Neuken standing up. He dusted off his clothes and picked up his sword.

Eronalo rose from his impact crater and grinned. "This is beyond entertaining!"

"You have a lot of problems" muttered the Redguard preparing a spell.

He raised his hand and from the ground burst tree roots a foot in diameter. They wrapped themselves around Eronalo and began to constrict him violently.

"Huh, so this is Alteration eh?" muttered the Altmer. "How unusual."

The roots expanded in size and completely covered Eronalo. Then they crunched themselves inward.

A loud crunching noise emitted from the center of the roots and Neuken smiled. "Gotcha."

The roots exploded violently and blasted the Redguard off his feet. He smashed into a wall and groaned.

"Now I must know: Who did you get?" asked Eronalo walking from nowhere.

"How did you..?" began Neuken.

"Oh, it's a little trick we learned. It's Conjuration. And since your order doesn't like Conjuration, you'll never learn it."

He leaned in closer. "That's why us at the College of Whispers are better then you groveling idiots. We know that the best approach to any problem is always the silent, disgusting way. Because no one else takes that road."

Neuken smiled and flared out his arms.

Eronalo flew backwards and rolled twice when he hit the ground.

"Yeah, and now you'll be hitting the road" muttered the Redguard standing up. "We may be groveling idiots to you, but I have more skill than you. And skill is more important than knowledge."

From the ground rose a dozen skeletal hands. They wrapped themselves around Neuken's legs and pulled themselves taut.

"Not when your knowledge is as powerful as mine" noted Eronalo standing up. "I think you are beginning to understand. It doesn't matter what you do, I can turn it to my advantage. It is my best trait."

Then a sword appeared in the space between the Altmer's sternum and pectoral muscles.

He looked down in disbelief at the scimitar and looked at Neuken. "How did you..?"

"Tut, tut, tut" said Neuken walking towards the dying Eronalo. He looked into his eyes and smiled at him.

"A true genius doesn't reveal his secrets."

Then he pulled his sword free and pushed him to the ground.

* * *

"Well goddamn" muttered Savos Aren.

"That was brutal" agreed the Grand Aristocrat.

The Headmaster of Whispers nodded.

Ancano smiled. "I thought that Eronalo bastard deserved it. Stupid, ignorant, and arrogant."

"He's just like you!" yelled the Grand Aristocrat smiling.

The Thalmor looked like he had been smacked in the face. He rose from his seat. "I don't have to take this shit."

He walked off and Tolfdir nodded firmly. "I am glad he is gone."

The headmaster of Whispers shared the nod, while the Grand Aristocrat yelled, "Yeah, walk off you elven pussy!"

Savos sighed. "I am sure I'll never hear the end of this damn thing when this is over."

He stood up and yelled, "The winner is: Neuken Dorinto!"

"Damn right it is" muttered the Redguard.

**Neuken is such a douchebag. He's one of my favorite characters.**


	21. Chapter 21

Ancano stormed through the halls of the College of Winterhold, his face flushed with rage. How dare those stupid, incompetent morons insult him? He was a master of the arcane, one of the best in his organization! He was sent to the College of Winterhold for the simple reason that he was intoned with the ways of magicka. He had more skill than half the staff!

He kicked a lone rock on the walkway and roared in anger.

"Goddamn, arrogant imbeciles!" he yelled into the evening air.

"You never change, do you?" asked a random voice.

The Altmer turned swiftly and looked at the source of the voice.

Sitting on top of the giant statue in the courtyard was a man. He wore a long black robe that had white embroidery on the sleeves and collar. In his hand was a giant staff that was about six-feet long. He recognized him, but it couldn't be true.

"You died" muttered Ancano. "I watched you die. A long time ago."

The man laughed. "Die? I cannot die my old friend. Don't you remember the spell I was searching for? The same one Dunlain was searching for? The similarity is, we both found it."

"You…found the spell?"

The man grinned. "Why yes. My form is slightly less advanced, since I can't manipulate the environment around me like Dunlain can. But I do have a physical form."

"So Corbett the Black has become an immortal being?" asked Ancano smiling.

Corbett nodded. "It is a blessing and a curse really."

"Would you mind telling me how you did so? For an old friend?"

Corbett frowned. "An old friend? Last time I checked, you constantly were ridiculing me."

The Altmer gave a nervous chuckle. "Well, that was sort of my job. I was supposed to keep you from leaving the College as much as possible."

The former Arch-Mage nodded. "I know. But even if I told you how I became an Auger, it would do nothing. You don't have the skill."

Ancano looked extremely offended. "Enough skill? How dare you?! I am a top member of the Thalmor! I could level this College in one hand!"

Corbett laughed. "You may be able to destroy, but can you rebuild? That determines true power."

"Irrelevant!" yelled the Altmer. "Tell me where your artifact is based!"

"Why?"

"So I can destroy it! And destroy you!"

Corbett laughed. "You only wish you could destroy it. You were unable to destroy the artifact for Dunlain, the same will be for my artifact."

Ancano pulled out a short stave. This one was about a meter long and curved innately, like a tree branch.

"It won't take me long. I can track magical signatures like a blood hound."

Corbett lay on top of the statue, as if he did it every day. For the most part, he was using magic to hold himself up.

"Go ahead my friend. Search all you want. Even if you tried to destroy it, I could stop you with one spell."

"You seem fairly casual for somebody who could die instantly."

"Die? Didn't I already tell you my friend? I can't die anymore."

* * *

Savos Aren looked at his fellow leaders from the different magical institutions. "It would seem we have a dilemma."

The Grand Aristocrat nodded. "We have five finalists. And unless we plan to change the way we do the matches, we are going to have some odd reworking."

"I guess we'll let the stone decided" muttered the assistant-headmaster of the College of Whispers. The headmaster himself merely nodded.

The Arch-Mage sighed. "I do hope these people are willing to put up with some unorthodox things."

The Aristocrat of Peace looked at his pamphlet. Due to his level of Enchanting, he had it intertwined with the gambling stations all around the arena. "We have nearly a thousand people betting a sum of a thousand-plus septims in at least one contestant. There about two hundred who have placed a sum of ten thousand septims."

"Ten thousand septims!" cried Tolfdir shocked. "People have that amount of money nowadays?"

"Yes good sir" answered the Aristocrat of Peace.

"Talos help us" muttered the Alteration Master.

Savos smiled. "It is good we have that many. Our friends at the College of Whispers can supply any funds we would need to pay those who win."

The headmaster nodded again, his mask and hood still covering his head. Only a tiny chunk of the mask revealed that he had a very pale skin tone. His one visible eye was a shiny white and appeared to be blind.

"I must ask, why does he not speak?" inquired the Aristocrat of Joy.

The assistant headmaster spoke for his senior. "He has stopped speaking for the last week."

"What's his reason for silence?"

The assistant headmaster shrugged. "I do not know. He just stopped speaking."

Savos smiled friendly. "I understand. Some people believe that the truest power is inside oneself, and the only way to find this power is to be silent enough to look for it. That is probably the reason."

The headmaster of Whispers nodded.

"See what I mean? Now, I think we have an anxious audience waiting for the next round."

The Arch-Mage stood and looked out to the crowds. "Now ladies and gentlemen! We begin the second matches!"

The stone beside him rose in the air and began to flash. Letting out one, long blaze of light, it revealed two names.

"J'zargo and Krag gro-Luob!"

The Khajiit smiled at his opponent. "It is good that J'zargo fights one as skilled as you. It keeps things interesting."

"I would say the same cat" muttered Krag. "But there is no need for words. Let us go."

**I love the characters in this story. I've never really done a story for this long, so it gives me room to make a character realistic.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Now if you read the Argonian story, you know it has ended already. But if you haven't, well, it has. So that sucks, but thankfully this one is still going. So enjoy!**

Krag looked at his newest opponent. The vase on his back was reconstructed like it had never been shattered. His cloak still had ash on it though.

"So, you are a Master Conjurer?" asked J'zargo suspiciously.

"Yes. I bonded myself with the spirits of the dead and learned their secrets."

"You should see a psychologist about that."

The Orc simply smiled. "Your banter is amusing, since it speaks your doom."

"J'zargo finds this pre-match conversation frightfully dull. May we just skip to the fighting?"

"Fine by me."

"And the first match, J'zargo versus Krag gro-Luob, begins NOW!"

J'zargo prepped a spell and aimed at the vase on Krag's back.

"Good thing I know what to aim at first!" he yelled releasing a giant ice spike.

It struck the vase right in the center and split it in half. It fell to the ground and disintegrated. But nothing was inside the vase.

"Hmm" muttered the Khajiit.

"Were you expecting something?"

"Well, yes. Judging by the match Brelyna's match, yes I was."

"Well a true genius never uses the same trick twice."

J'zargo smiled and reached into his cloak. Pulling out his crossbow, he tossed it aside.

"True. I think it is time we discarded our trickery and deceit, and just fight like true warriors."

Krag smiled. "I have never respected you more than I do now."

J'zargo drew out a long dagger and spoke a few words to it. It lit itself on fire and extended to his arm.

The Orc gave a huge grin. "Oh how too fun."

He extended both of his hands and two ethereal swords appeared. He spun them expertly and looked at J'zargo.

"Let us begin."

They sprinted at each other and swung, high and low.

J'zargo grunted as he was swiped in the face and countered with a Ward at close range. This blasted Krag backwards and gave the Khajiit some breathing room.

He raised his un-fiery hand and emitted a lightning bolt.

Krag landed on the ground and blocked the bolt with one of his Bound Swords. Rolling onto his feet, he shook the dizziness out of his head.

"Finally, someone who can fight!" yelled the Orc running back at him.

J'zargo spun and covered the ground around him in flames.

Krag roared and leaped over them, swords high above his head. J'zargo went to a knee and charged up a heavy Ward.

The Orc landed on it and tried to punch through it. The Khajiit's spell was too strong however, so he propelled himself off of it and landed outside the ring of flames.

"So you are a genius in Destruction magic, is that correct?" asked Krag.

"For the most part."

The Orc smiled. "Well I must say, you are interesting. But this is hardly honorable. I thought we would fight like warriors?"

Suddenly the wall of flames died and J'zargo waved his fiery dagger. "Who says we can't?"

They clashed swords again, mixing words with strokes of blades.

"It is strange how magic did little to change the ways of war" muttered Krag. "We still swing out sticks of iron, as if magic taught us nothing."

"Oh it taught us something" replied J'zargo. "We just learned how to swing it like a stick too. Observe."

Extending his left claw, he lit up a fireball. "This technique has so many applications. I can throw it, use it as it sits in my hand, or…"

He crushed his fist and let the fire overtake his other arm.

"Or I could use it like a cloak" completed the Khajiit.

"Impressive. It usually takes years to learn how to use only a fireball and extended it into another technique."

"Efficiency is the name of my game Orc. Now let's get back to playing."

The Orc smiled. "I agree with you. But every good game has its pawns. And I need to bring some into this one."

He lifted his hands and from the ground rose three Draugrs. J'zargo swore and lifted his fiery limbs.

"This is not good" he muttered clenching his claws.

The undead ran at him and he wildly swung his arms, spewing fire left and right. In reality he had no idea where he was aiming, but he did hit things.

The undead minions perished before him and he tried to determine where Krag was. Then he remembered the last match and leaped backwards.

Sure enough, Krag slammed into the ground where J'zargo was a second ago.

"I thought you said a genius never used the same trick twice" commented the Khajiit.

"I never said I was a genius" defended the Orc.

"Point taken."

They collided blades again, both of them growing tired. Constant magicka use really took it out of a person.

J'zargo leaped back and assessed his situation. "Shit" he murmured quietly. "I'm running low on magicka. But with all his techniques, he probably is too."

He raised his dagger and gave a grin. "Are you ready to lose Orc?"

"Are you?!" yelled Krag running to meet him.

* * *

Savos Aren looked at the two contestants amazed. Their fight had gone on for nearly ten minutes and neither of them were down. It was incredible that these two had this much magicka and durability.

"Your student is very impressive" commented the assistant headmaster of the College of Whispers.

The headmaster simply nodded.

Tolfdir smiled at them. "Thank you. J'zargo is one of our most talented students, to say the least."

"I'm not sure about that" stated the Grand Aristocrat of Justice. "That Breton can Shout like the ancient Nords. That is truly impressive."

"Thank you" spoke Savos carefully. "We try to train as much as possible."

He looked over at Tolfdir and mouthed, _"Don't say anything about her."_

The Alteration master understood. Revealing that Averil was a Dragonborn would just cause more discord among the instituions.

* * *

J'zargo rummaged through his coat, trying to find another potion of magicka. When he turned up empty, he looked over at Krag and smiled.

"I'm all out" he panted through tired breath. His eyes hurt, his arms were sore, his nose was running, and his ears were ringing.

The Orc nodded. His left eye was swollen shut and his right arm was bleeding violently. "So am I."

Both of them were actually suffering from magicka sickness. They had used and countered so much magicka that their systems were beginning to react violently.

"Let's say we finish this, eh?" spoke J'zargo feeling his mind slip.

Krag simple nodded.

They weakly walked towards each other, then passed out. They both hit the ground at the same time.

Savos looked in confusion at the two. They had both gone unconscious within split seconds. It would be impossible to tell who blacked out first.

"Because both competitors are unable to continue, no one wins this round!" he yelled to a dissatisfied crowd. A lot of them had money on the Khajiit and Orc and now were going to lose a lot.

"What a bunch of dung" muttered the Grand Aristocrat. "I had money on that cat."

The headmaster of Whispers simply extended his hand.

"Ugh, fine" muttered the Grand Aristocrat handing over a bag of septims.

Savos looked in confusion at the headmaster. "You, bet on a tie?"

The assistant headmaster explained, "My master says that if two men of equal skill face off without any outside interference, a tie is the most logical outcome."

Tolfdir looked at the headmaster. "You are a very smart man."

The headmaster simply clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

"That is his gesture for thanks" explained the assistant headmaster.

Savos smiled. He liked the headmaster of Whispers. He always had something smart to say. Or not say, in most cases.

**Hmph, well how do you like that?**


	23. Chapter 23

Onmund was getting nervous at the brink of the next round. _"Man, I either get Neuken or Averil here. I will have the time of my life fighting Neuken, but if I get Averil…"_

He glanced over at her and she returned with a smile. _"Shit! I can't fight that! I can't hurt that face! Especially that face! OK, I won't fight her. I'll just…*gulp*…give up. Despite the fact that it makes me vomit."_

Savos Aren stood and stretched out his arms to the crowd. "Now, for the penultimate round!"

The stone blinked white and then flashed brilliantly.

"Averil versus Neuken!"

Onmund's air to turned to water. Now his option was taken from him.

The Redguard looked at the Breton. "Well, well, well. Time to dance."

"I'll lead" replied Averil.

Onmund grabbed her by the arm. "Averil, forfeit the match."

She got angry in a split second. "Why? Because you think I can't do it?"

"That's not what I meant" he defended futilely.

"Oh, really? Then maybe it's because you don't want me taking your chance at revenge!"

"What?"

"I know you Onmund. You're an arrogant, self-centered bastard who only cares about his own needs and wants."

"That's not true" he stated feeling himself break.

"Just leave me alone" spat the Breton turning and exiting the room.

Neuken tauntingly patted Onmund on the shoulder and walked out to the arena.

* * *

"So your boyfriend thinks you can't stack up to me? Maybe you should've listened to him" said the Redguard smiling at his opponent.

"I have trouble listening" she snapped adjusting her black robe.

"Then I'll beat my lesson into you."

"Seventh match, Averil versus Neuken, begins NOW!"

Neuken roared and arced his sword. Instantly, a wave of fire coursed towards her.

Averil raised a Ward and blocked it. Charging up a counter spell, she released a bolt of lightning.

Neuken calmly dodged this and fired another fireball.

"Come on your bitch! Show me your Shouts!" ordered the Redguard. "I wanna feel that ancient bull shit!"

He raised his hands and released a solid line of fire at her. She nimbly dodged it and fired back with a ball of lightning.

Neuken scowled and made a fist. Instantly, vines grew from the ground and began to wrap around her.

"Shit!" she yelled cutting away at the vines.

Then the Redguard smashed his foot into the side of her head.

She collapsed and Neuken began to punch her repeatedly in the face, breaking her nose in two swings.

The crowd booed, since doing something like that was extremely rude and not fit for a tournament.

"Start. Fighting. Back. Bitch!" exclaimed Neuken slamming his fists into her head.

Averil didn't feel good. She felt her brain rattle in her skull and knew that this beat down was slowly killing her. So she knew she only had one option.

"MUL QAH DIIV!"

Suddenly, her body was enveloped in magical armor. Her fists glowed red and she felt her wounds instantly seal. Her body felt like it had been struck by lightning.

She looked up at Neuken and swung with her right.

It connected with his jaw and broke it instantly. Then the magicka in her palm exploded and sent Neuken flying backwards.

She jumped to her feet and roared. She felt powerful, she felt fast. She felt ALIVE.

The Redguard stood, his healing spells already having brought him back to full strength. He wiped the blood from his mouth and smiled.

"Now it gets fun" he stated raising his sword.

Averil sprinted towards him and swung her fists wildly. He calmly dodged this and slashed at the armor. It didn't budge an inch and he leaped back. Drawing forth a bottle, he took a long gulp and spat.

Instantly, a pillar of fire appeared in front of him as the alcohol in his breath lit with his magicka. It caught Averil in its wake and wrapped around her.

He noticed something shift in the aura of flames and tried to determine whatever it was.

Then a glowing hand grabbed him by the neck.

He stopped breathing fire and then stopped breathing period. He looked at the Breton astonished. She wasn't even singed from the flames and still had the armor.

Averil reared back her head and smashed it into Neuken's face.

He flew and landed in a heap on the ground. She was much more powerful than he had predicted.

"You surprise me Breton" he said honestly. "I thought this was a waste of time. But now you finally started to tweak my interest."

Averil gave a smile. "I like to keep my prey intrigued."

Then she leaped forward, the magicka swirling around her.

Neuken raised his sword and caught the incoming fist. Raising a spell, he smiled.

"Game over" he said blasting a wave of air at her.

Averil flew backwards and rolled on the ground. She only stopped when she hit the wall. Her magical armor completely evaporated at this and made her bruise all over

She shook off the daze and smiled at him. "I'll teach you something that you should learn."

She stood on her trembling legs and gave him a glare. "Never…underestimate…me!"

"STRUM BAH QO!" she yelled at the sky.

Suddenly, clouds began to appear in the sky. The crowd nervously looked around. Weather conditions were not exactly common in caverns.

A bolt of lightning flew from the sky and landed on Averil. Instead of killing her instantly, it wrapped around her body and flowed into her veins. She smiled at the stunned Neuken and said, "Let's get down with it."

She sprinted towards him and swung her sword wildly, releasing arcs of lightning from the weapon. Neuken was actually having trouble dodging it.

Averil stopped and raised her left hand.

A bolt of lightning flew from her hand and punched Neuken in the chest. Flying backwards, he landed smoking.

Averil sighed as her magicka armor loosened. She was tired, and had very few tricks left to use.

Then something stabbed her in the middle of the chest.

She collapsed and looked at the scimitar that was poking through her ribcage. It was red with blood. Her blood.

Neuken smiled down at her, his clothes still aflame. He pulled out the sword and let her fall.

"NO!" roared Onmund leaping over the handrail.

He landed in the arena and ran over to Averil. He could see that her breath was becoming difficult and she was bleeding profusely.

He kneeled beside her and grabbed her. "Stay with me now!" he yelled lighting up a healing spell.

She looked up at him and whispered, "I hurt man."

"Don't worry. I-I got you" he said noting his nervous stutter. That was not a good sign.

He pressed his hands onto the wound and began to seal it.

Once he was sure it wouldn't bleed anymore, he glared up at Neuken. "You motherfucker!"

"What? It's a competition!"

"I'll show you a competition you fucking son of a bitch!" yelled the Nord sprinting towards him.

Suddenly a giant cyclone of wind emitted across the cavern and released a wave of cold across the arena.

Onmund was maybe three feet from Neuken, who also was preparing to strike when something landed in between them.

The headmaster of the College of Whispers was right between them, his arms pointed at both of them. He still had the same mask on and didn't appear stressed at all.

"What the..?" muttered Onmund stopping in his tracks.

"Whoa" murmured Neuken.

"You gentlemen can't fight outside of a match" stated the previously silent headmaster calmly. "That is the rules. However, that is not why I stopped you."

He looked at both of them and they both shivered. He had an aura of death that his one eye enhanced.

"I interrupted you to consider this. If you both fight in the final rounds, since that is where this is headed, imagine the amount of glory it is in store for both of you."

Onmund nodded. "That does make sense."

"Yeah. Killing you in an official match would make a great sight to watch."

The headmaster nodded and lowered his arms. "Good."

Then he disappeared and reappeared at the platform with his throne.

Onmund looked at Neuken and said, "You're a dead man. At first it was because of my leg, now it's because of her."

"Ah, do you love her? You little puppy bitch."

The Nord didn't reply. He knelt down to Averil and wiped two fingers in her pool of blood. Standing up to face Neuken, he wiped two lines vertically from the bottom of his left eye to the bottom of his cheek.

"If you knew what this mark meant, you'd be scared" he stated calmly.

Neuken laughed loudly. "Why?"

"Because it's the mark used when someone you love is hurt."

The Redguard stopped. "What?"

"It symbolizes the pain of the loss for the one who cared about them, and the blood he will bring to those who hurt them."

He made a fist and placed it underneath the mark. "With her blood, I will see you die."

Neuken snarled. "Then you better bring all the power your little mark gives you. You'll need it to kill me."

Onmund didn't say anything else. He knelt down and grabbed Averil gently. Lifting her off the ground, he moved her to the observation room.

Brelyna took her from him and lay her on the ground. "I'll make sure she's okay" stated the Dunmer looking at him. He looked like he was crying actually, joining the lines of blood that ran across his left cheek.

"Show him no mercy" she stated trying to keep him focused.

The Nord nodded, not wiping the tears from his eyes. He let them come. He had no reason to be ashamed of them.

He walked back out to the arena and looked up at Savos Aren.

The Arch-Mage raised an eyebrow. He could see the anger welling inside of both of them. It was radiating off their bodies and sickening the air.

"Do not interrupt the match" calmly stated the headmaster of the College of Whispers.

Savos turned to him with a face of confusion.

"Let them do what they must do. This is no longer a tournament match. This is a battle for honor."

He turned to the Arch-Mage and looked at him. "And honor is one thing even I don't want to step in front of."

Savos didn't like to admit it, but he knew the headmaster was right. Even Onmund would have such a blind hatred he wouldn't stop for anyone.

"Final match, Onmund versus Neuken, begins NOW!"


	24. Chapter 24

Averil woke up in a place that was definitely not Skyrim.

First of all, it was hot, hotter than anything that could possibly exist in the real world. It felt like the sun had decreased the distance between it and the earth by half.

She looked around. She was lying in a field of sand, a desert if her terminology was correct.

She looked up at the sky. It was nighttime, but not anything like she had felt. Instead of being cool and refreshing, it was goddamn baking.

She looked at her person. She still had her black robe and cloak, but no wounds from her fight with Neuken.

"Corbett?" she asked to anything around her. For all she knew, this was a test of his.

Suddenly she was lifted off her feet by a giant gust of wind. She flew through the air and slammed into a dune.

Something landed near her and roared, blowing away the sand completely. While she remained, the dune sunk until it hit bare rock.

She looked at it and saw that it was a dragon. But not a dragon she had ever seen. It was majestic black and immense in size. Its eyes were a penetrating crimson that glowed in the night.

It stared down at her, a giant before an ant. Then it spoke.

"Drem yol lok kiir. (Greetings child)" spoke the dragon.

"Wo kos kin? (Who are you?)" she asked nervously.

The dragon puffed out its chest and answered, "Zu'u Alduin, kriid se muz ahrk al se lein. Faal okaaz motaad fod zu tinvaak, faal strunmah motaad fod zu rein. (I am Alduin, slayer of men and destroyer of worlds. The seas shudder when I speak, the mountains quake when I roar.)"

She tensed in the sand. She knew of Alduin, the Bane of Kings. He was the World-Eater, the one who would bring destruction to the world at the end of time.

"Loan drem hind zu? (What do you want with me?)" she murmured nervously.

While his anatomy made it impossible, it appeared that Alduin was smiling.

"Volein. Zu hind hiu wah gron ahst him College ahrk neh govey. Neh krif zu. Zu drun hiu togaat. Haalvut. (Nothing. I want you to remain at your College and never leave. Never face me in battle. I offer you this one chance. Take it.)

Averil was shaking violently. His words made her heart skip beats and hammered her head with noise. It was like he was controlling the very air with his words.

She stood unsteadily, looking him dead in the eye. While she had no control over this vision, she could definitely prove a point.

"Neh! Zu fen neh ru! Zu'u Averil, Dovahkiin do Hind, ahrk zu fen krif hiu! Nii los zu qostiid! (Never! I will never run away! I am Averil, Dragonborn of Hope, and I will rise against you! Such is my destiny!)

Alduin roared and she flew again. She spiraled several times before smashing into a rock floor. For some reason, she didn't feel the slightest pain.

The dragon landed and roared into the sky.

Suddenly, a wave of water rushed over her, combining with the sand to form mud. She collapsed onto her knees as she tried to regain balance.

Alduin roared again and the sky thundered. Lightning streaked all across it, making the desert light up twice as bright.

Then a fireball smashed into the ground beside her and opened up a crevice in the earth.

She slipped and fell into it, tumbling into the negative space. She landed on something that cracked and smelled horrible.

She looked around and noticed that there were skeletons all around her. She was lying in a pile of immobile ones while the active ones were clawing at her. She could literally feel the claws they had.

Then she was tugged upwards and slammed back into the desert.

Averil was lying on her back, stunned at this showing of pure power. Her body literally couldn't move.

Alduin went over to her and leaned into her face, putting his muzzle only a foot from her head.

"Him hind. (Your choice)" he muttered. Flapping his wings, he soared into the sky.

The darkness around her line of sight expanded and she passed out, feeling the sand still swirling around her.


	25. Chapter 25

Onmund roared in anger and slashed with his dagger. Neuken dodged, surprised by the speed the Nord exhibited. It was like he had been possessed by a Daedra.

The Redguard raised a hand and blasted Onmund off his feet.

The Nord landed and released a torrent of fireballs. Neuken raised a Ward, but he didn't expect Onmund to come running as soon as the last ball hit.

The Nord slugged him in the face and grabbed him by the lapels. Tossing him to the ground, Onmund began to punch him furiously.

"Motherfucking cunt dick son of a bitch!" yelled the Nord slamming his fists into the Redguard's face.

Neuken released a dynamite left hook and knocked Onmund off him. Standing up, he prepared an immense fire spell.

He released it and a giant storm of flames wrapped around him. This also blasted Onmund into a wall.

The Nord coughed and stood. He could feel that a few ribs had shifted and he was bleeding from the face. But he didn't feel the pain. His anger made it seem irrelevant.

Raising his hands, prepared an intense Alteration spell.

Throwing it forward, he braced for it to start working.

Instantly, a cyclone of wind flew through the air and snuffed out Neuken's flames. Then it tripled in intensity and Neuken was lifted off his feet.

Onmund drew his dagger and threw it as hard as he could.

The knife planted itself in Neuken's stomach and he gasped. Landing hard, he pulled it out.

"You son of a bitch" he muttered tossing it aside.

Then something grabbed him and tossed him aside.

Neuken rolled and looked at the tosser. It was a Daedra Kynval who was currently standing over him, a large broadsword in his hands.

"Conjuration? You're very well versed."

The Daedra grabbed him and Neuken released a lightning bolt.

The demonic being stepped backwards and the Redguard swung his sword low. Shattering the Daedra's knee, he stood up and swung again.

The Daedra blocked the shot and swung. It connected and cut open a line in the Redguard's stomach.

Neuken gasped and pushed him away with a blast of Alteration. Pressing a Restoration spell into his wound, he quickly sealed it.

Grabbing the Daedra firmly, he smiled as he raised a spell.

Pressing his hand into the demon's forehead, he sent it back to Oblivion.

"Pathetic" muttered Neuken. "Not even a challenge."

He turned and met a firm fist in his face. Reeling on his heels, Onmund head-butted him to the ground.

Onmund calmly drew his second dagger and plunged it into Neuken's chest. The Redguard gasped in pain and tried to pull it out.

Onmund kneeled down and began to twist the knife slowly, enjoying the pained expression on Neuken's face.

"Yeah, how does that feel you worthless bitchass darkie?!" exclaimed the Nord pushing it even harder into his enemy's shoulder. "Now you know how she feels! You cock-sucking douchebag!"

"I stabbed her in the chest" spat the Redguard. "Right in the fucking heart! But you don't have the balls to do that! You cockass dike!"

Onmund growled and pulled the knife down, slicing into Neuken's shoulder. He then pulled out another dagger and waved it in front of his face.

"I'm gonna bleed you darkie. Not because you wounded my leg. Or because you offended my teammates. No, this is because you injured the one I love. And that gives me enough reason."

Neuken grabbed the knife in his shoulder and slashed it at Onmund. It trailed a long line across the Nord's face and caused him to gush blood.

Onmund got off him and took several steps back. Neuken stood and wiped the blood off his robe.

"You think this is because of her? You ignorant cock-suck. This is your own damn honor and pride telling you to do this. This is just a reason to get what you always wanted. That's how humans work, you damn ice cube. It doesn't matter how passionately you say it's _because _of something, you still want the same damn things."

Neuken spat and raised his scimitar. "So stop lying to yourself! You could give a shit less about her! She means nothing to you, except a way for your own fucking mind to justify your actions!"

Onmund shook his head. "No, you're wrong. I have loved her long before this tournament. I cared about her well-being. She was just as important to me as breathing. I couldn't imagine living without her. Even if she didn't share those feelings, I would still care for her. Because that's what love is! It is something you would never understand!"

"Don't you lecture me on love you fucking son of bitch!" replied Neuken completely enraged. "It is what I suffered from for years! But I realized something, something you too will realize. Love is not eternal. It fades and withers just like everything made by men. It is as vulnerable and quick as the wind! Nothing can keep it safe! One loss, and it completely breaks a person!"

Neuken ripped off his necklace and shook it in the air. "She gave this to me on my birthday! She told me, just like every day, how much she loved me! But you know what happened on that day? She died! A vampire killed her! I held her in my arms when she died! I felt her blood flow from her corpse! I saw the life leave her eyes! But I kept going! Because I knew that to do the honorable thing and kill myself was something I could never do! Now tell me Onmund, you arrogant motherfucker, can you say that?! Can you say you will remain that strong even after that Breton is gone? Oh, my attack on her doesn't even count. She will come back, I can guarantee it. But my girl can't come back! She's dead you fucking cunt! Can you say that when Averil dies, you can continue like nothing happened?"

Onmund looked him dead in the eye and said, "No. I would die with her."

Neuken shoved the necklace back in his pocket and looked over at him. "Then I can soundly say that I respect you more than myself."

He raised his scimitar, and looked over at the Nord. "I won't hold back though. This match will end here and now. I hope you're ready."

Onmund nodded and pulled out a third dagger. Covering it in ice, he sank into a battle stance.

"Let's settle this damn thing" muttered the Nord.

Then the roof of the cavern splintered.

Everyone looked up and stared in horror at the sight.

* * *

Savos Aren looked around and sighed. "Where is Ancano?"

"I think he returned to the College" said Tolfdir.

"Well I think we know what's going on" muttered the Grand Aristocrat.

The headmaster of the College of Whispers stood. Only a hand from Savos stopped him.

"I can handle this" stated the Arch-Mage standing. "Stay here."

Then something exploded and all of them blacked out.


	26. Chapter 26

**So who watched the Walking Dead return? Cause I sure as hell did! Amazing! But this is Skyrim, and we need to get back on topic.**

**PS: Thank you Cyrus for giving me your full, honest opinion about the original Chapter 26. It did suck (in my opinion, not your actualy words), so I remade it. Now please note that if you have read the original, this isn't too far off. Just wait and be patient. And enjoy.**

Averil woke up with snow falling on her face. That was mildly reassuring, since she had felt snow for years. But that also meant she was no longer in the arena or the cavern, so that worried her.

She looked around and saw that she was back at the courtyard in the College. It was dark, as always, so that meant it was the same day she had left.

Suddenly Onmund was right there, looking down at her. He was bleeding profusely from the shoulder, but he barely seemed to notice it.

"Are you alright?" he asked extremely concerned.

She blushed profusely. "Yes. I am."

He nodded and held up a potion of healing. "Drink" he requested/ordered.

She did so and felt the magical concoction sink into her bloodstream. Truth be told, she was not that alright. She still had some internal bleeding, but it quickly stopped from the potion.

"What happened?" she asked looking at the Nord. Only then did she noticed that he had a dried streak of blood down his face. It looked like he had cried bloody tears from his left eye.

"Oh Talos, are you OK?" she asked feeling the wound.

He gently brushed her hand away. "I'm alright. It was deliberate."

She was confused by this, but she decided to ask later. She looked around and noticed that a lot of people were around her. J'zargo was lying on a mat nearby, being tended by Brelyna. Most of the College of Winterhold's staff were also there, standing in the snow.

"Why are we all here? And outside?" asked Averil.

"Ancano went crazy" explained Onmund. "He's trying to do something insane in the Hall of the Elements. Savos and Mirabelle are trying to stop him."

Suddenly, an immense explosion blasted through the air and the doors of the Hall flew open.

"What is he doing?"

"It's weird. He says he's destroying something. And he keeps repeating a name. Corbett the Black."

Averil took this in instantly. Ancano was destroying Corbett's orb.

"I need to be in there, now!" she exclaimed trying to get up.

Onmund gently kept her down. "Not a chance. You're still injured."

"But if he destroys it…"

The Nord looked in confusion at her. "What?"

She began to cry. She couldn't possibly explain it, and it frustrated the hell out of her that she couldn't.

Someone placed a hand on Onmund's shoulder and he turned to look.

The headmaster at the College of Whispers nodded at him. That was all he needed.

Onmund extended a hand to Averil.

She stopped her crying and looked into his eyes. They were kind and caring.

She grasped his hand and he helped her onto his feet. She looked at the headmaster of Whispers, who still kept his mask.

"Good luck" he whispered through the mask.

She nodded and began to walk into the Hall of the Elements.

* * *

The first thing Averil noticed was that the magicka was thick as mist. It was stinking up the air and clouding her vision.

She walked deeper inside and saw that Ancano was standing in the middle of the Hall, the Orb of Corbett the Black in his hands. He was screaming at it and had his magicka all over it. It appeared that he was trying to crack it.

Then she saw Mirabelle and Savos near him. They were lying on the ground, panting. It appeared that they were exhausted.

Savos looked up and scowled as he saw her. "Ugh, crap. I knew you would come. I knew you smuggled this damn artifact out of Traelo. Any explanation why Ancano wants it?"

"Because it contains me" stated a familiar voice.

They all looked up and saw that Corbett the Black was standing in the Hall. He had long shadows trailing around him that whipped his coat tails wildly. Not to mention he know had hair. It was black as midnight and reached past his shoulders. It made his figure even more imposing.

Savos looked in wonder at the Nord. "Master Corbett?"

Corbett smiled at him. "Ah, Savos. I imagine you have heard of me. Probably from historical documents though. It would appear I need to make myself known again."

Mirabelle stared in disbelief. "Wait, you're Corbett the Black? The Arch-Mage who assembled the Arcanaeum that we still use?"

"You know me so well" muttered Corbett. "Listen, I cannot explain. I need you to believe me though. If Ancano destroys that artifact, it will level this College."

"We cannot penetrate his magical barrier" explained Savos. "It is too strong for even my gravitational spells."

"Hmm. Unusual" noted the oldest mage. "This sort of thing is nearly impenetrable, except..."

He paused. "Averil, use Storm Call."

The Breton was surprised she was even being noticed at this point, being in the presence of three elder mages. "What?"

"If you use Storm Call and catch a lightning bolt, like you did in the arena, we could puncture the barrier."

"I don't think I can do that. It only lasts a few seconds before it turns into my own magicka again."

"Then use Alteration to keep it intact" advised Corbett.

She sighed and nodded. "Fine. I'll...try I guess."

She raised an arm to the sky and yelled, "STRUM BAH QO!"

The sky above them rumbled, but wasn't visible since the roof was still there.

Then a lightning bolt punctured through the ceiling and landed in her awaiting palm.

She snapped her fingers shut around it and tried to focus. It was similar to trying to hold water in your hands, albeit the water was boiling.

She finally managed to get it into the shape of a spear, or close enough to an actual lightning bolt. She looked at the barrier and nodded.

She sprinted towards it, the javelin raised high. Thrusting it, it finally punctured the magical shell.

Ancano looked up and was immediately blasted off his feet. He landed in a heap, the ball still in his hands.

"Shit" he muttered trying to get up.

Corbett appeared suddenly, wrenching the orb from his grasp. "I'll take that, thank you very much."

Ancano looked at the four in front of him. All of them seemed capable and willing to kill him right now.

"Surrender Ancano" advised Savos. "I won't kill you if you stand down."

The Altmer smiled. "A nice jest Master Savos, but I think we all know that you wouldn't."

He then looked at his hands. "Thankfully, I did managed to crack that orb. And get some of what's inside."

He lifted his right arm and the wall behind him exploded outwardly. The others ducked, but he remained upright.

Grabbing Averil, he looked back at them all. "Bye."

He leaped from the tower, the Breton with him. She screamed in terror, but quickly realized that his leap wasn't normal. It seemed he was jumping nearly a hundred feet with a single bound.

They landed on a mountain and Ancano landed smoothly. Averil on the other hand tumbled and rolled on the ground. Flying was definitely not one of her areas of expertise.

The Altmer walked over to her and kicked her in the side. "Bitch. You brought that damn orb in here, didn't you!? I could have done so much with it, but you had to muck it all up!"

He grabbed her and tossed her twenty feet away. She landed hard and groaned.

"Now I am going to pummel you to death Breton. Oh, I'll die right afterwords. But this is pay..."

He stopped when he was blasted by a series of ice spears. Averil was down, but she certainly not out.

"You sly bitch" he noted pulling an ice spear from his chest. "I must admit, you are intuitive. But seriously. Die."

He raised his hands and released a massive fire storm. Averil made a dual Ward and blocked herself from the magicka. Despite this, she felt the edges of her cloak set on fire and wither.

The Breton stood and tossed off her flaming cloak. Putting two hands into a small sphere, she threw it at Ancano.

An explosion of magicka erupted from her hands and flared towards the Altmer. He smiled and summoned a massive Ward spell.

Averil sprinted through the fire, drawing her sword in one motion. Leaping above the flames, she soared down to Ancano.

She punched through his shield and stabbed him in the shoulder. He groaned and she tackled him to the ground.

Pulling her sword out, she was prepared to stab him again when he raised a closed fist.

"Get off me" ordered Ancano.

He opened his palm and she shot away from him like a rocket. Landing on hard stone, she felt her broken ribs. They were definitely not a good sign.

Ancano stood, placing a healing spell on his open wound. He looked at her and grinned. She was struggling to get up, trying her best to fight him.

He walked over to her and kicked her in the side again. She spat blood and collapsed again.

"Ha! Bitch! How does it feel! Tell me! TELL ME!"

He began to kick furiously, putting an unearthly passion into it.

Averil felt something inside of her. It was like a small sphere of flames in her heart. It began to spiral and grow, filling her with warmth. Then it shifted into her bloodstream and she shuddered. It was like pure energy was coursing through her.

She stopped Ancano's kick. He looked down at her surprised, but stopped when he saw her eyes. They were glowing blue and tinged slightly white.

"Back up" she ordered grabbing his leg.

She roared and threw him as hard as she could.

Ancano landed in a heap and looked stunned at the Breton. A moment ago, she was bleeding on the floor. Now she was throwing hiim across the battlefield.

Averil stood, her entire body coursing with this unknown energy. She felt something on her back and turned.

There was a pair of small wings growing from her shoulders. They looked like small butterfly wings, but were ethereal. All in all, they looked to be pure magicka wings. They were maybe a foot long, not too large to be brutally honest. But they were wings on a humanoid. Not exactly something you see every day.

She turned to Ancano and commanded, "Just fucking die."

She opened her palm and a solid ball of magicka began to form. She lit it on fire and it turned a deep black color.

Ancano stood, looking at her surprised. "Now listen. I am sure we can..."

"Raaagh!" roared Averil. She literally flew at him, the ball of fire still in her hand. She punched with it and connected with Ancano's chest.

It ate through him and exploded, leveling the island they were on. Needless to say, Ancano was just a small remnant of ash.

Averil collapsed, her wings gone. She looked up at the sky and felt her eyes begin to wane. The magical high she had a second ago was no longer in her body.

"Shit..." was her last thought.

**Now I did extend the story a little. Originally it wasn't that long, but now it's a chapter longer. Not that you would notice, since this isn't complete yet, but still worthy of a note.**


	27. Chapter 27

**First, I apologise for the long ass wait for this chapter. Second, if you read the original Chapter 26 and not the latest, please take the time to go back and read. This one starts from the newest one, so you kinda have to be up-to-date. But enjoy nonetheless.**

Averil woke up inside her room. She knew this since she wasn't freezing and there was a few candles flickering light across the ceiling.

She looked up and noticed her friend and mentor Corbett was standing on her dresser. Same as always.

He turned and smiled at her. "Morning."

He walked over to her and drew forth a small potion. It looked like some sort of broth. While she drank it, he began to explain.

After a few sips, she coughed and he set it down.

Corbett brushed a strand of black hair from his face and looked back at Averil. "I hope you understand why I must appear."

She nodded. He had explained very carefully that he must be a part of the College to protect it. Protect from what and who, he did not say.

Just then Savos entered the room. Barely glancing at Corbett, he looked at Averil instead.

"Ms. Averil. I am pleased to see that you are here."

She stood straighter. Most of the time when the Arch-Mage talked, it was fairly important. "Yes sir. What is it?"

He smiled. "I don't think you should be calling me sir. There is a very important reason to talk to you."

He knelt down beside her and looked into her eyes. "You are a Dragonborn Averil. Not just that. You are the youngest of them all. I know this from Corbett. That is why you are the Dragonborn of Hope. Hope for all the youth in the world. But that is not why I have come to you."

He sighed. "I am growing old. While I would greatly enjoy having such a position of power for a hundred more years, I hate the responsibility. Now I think someone like you should take over."

She looked in confusion at him. "What do you mean?"

He gave a wide grin. "I mean that I am making you the next Arch-Mage of this College. I can't think of a better replacement for me."

Averil couldn't breathe. This didn't make any sense. She was barely twenty years old and he was making her the Arch-Mage.

Corbett smiled. "I definitely approve of your choice. She is a brilliant mage."

"Isn't there someone else more deserving?" asked Averil trying to be humble. "I mean, Tolfdir would be a good one…"

Savos laughed. "I tried that ten years ago and he refused. He says he hates being responsible for students, let alone something this big. I tried today as well. But he did recommend you."

"What about Ms. Mirabelle?"

"She was the one who proposed you be the Arch-Mage."

"Well why me? Onmund has been here for two years."

"And I recommended you" said the Nord walking into the room. "Sorry to interrupt Master Savos, but I need to be here to witness this."

"Of course" stated the Dunmer understandingly.

The Breton was running out of options to be humble. "Well…well."

"Shut up" ordered J'zargo walking into the room like he owned it. "You will become the Arch-Mage and I will watch and you will shut up and take it!"

She glared at him. "Are you ordering me to become the leader of this College?"

"Yes, J'zargo is. Now become Arch-Mage and just shut up!"

She shrugged. "Well, if everyone here is saying so…"

Just then Brelyna ran into the room, then quickly saw that it was full and stood in the doorway. "I ain't gonna miss something this major!" she explained smiling.

"Ugh, anyone else?" joked Savos. "This was supposed to be a private thing."

Tolfdir shuffled in, adjusting his robes. "Apologies. I got lost in my own mind."

"Whatever" muttered Savos. "I think it's time we got this going."

"Wait, Mirabelle isn't here!" exclaimed Averil.

"Actually, I am" stated the woman walking from deeper in the Hall. "I was just upstairs reading a book when I overheard J'zargo yelling his lungs off. So I presumed something was going on. Now Savos, I think it's time we gave Ms. Averil her honors."

Savos nodded. Unclasping a necklace around his neck, he looked into the Breton's eyes. "Ms. Averil. I, Savos Aren, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, am passing down my power to you. I have endured, learned, and most of all, survived as leader of this institution. Now I will ask the same of you. Can I trust you to endure the trials of being a leader?"

"You can" calmly stated the Breton.

"Can I trust you to learn as you teach others ?"

"You can."

"Can I trust you to survive and defend this College with all your heart and soul? So help you the Divines?"

"You can."

Savos wrapped the necklace around her neck and tied it at the ends. "Ms. Averil, I give you the necklace of Golkrin. This is an heirloom that has been given to Arch-Mages for years. Now it will be the certificate of your title. While you are Arch-Mage, you may design any robe that you feel to make. You may also explore Tamriel as you please, with proper care of course. Now, I will do the final part of this ceremony."

He placed a palm on her forehead and whispered some words. It sounded like ancient Nordic.

When he finished, he was smiling intensely. "I appoint you, Averil, as the new Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. You have all the responsibilities and privileges that I have had in the past. May the Divines bless you and keep you for the rest of your life. And may you find what you always sought."

She nodded and he smiled. "Good. You are now the Arch-Mage. And that means, I don't have to do anything now."

They all laughed, including Savos. He stood and looked around. "Well, I don't know about you all, but I am getting a drink."

And with that, he left the room.

Onmund looked over at the newest Arch-Mage and smiled. "Well, I'm glad you are what you always wanted to be, and I would like to say…"

"Oh just shut up" ordered Averil grabbing him by the lapels. Pulling him close, she kissed him passionately on the lips. Since he didn't not enjoy it, he let it happen.

She pulled away first and stared into his eyes. "I love you" she said honestly.

"So do I."

J'zargo clapped. "Good. Now I will be the best man at the wedding."

They both glared at him. The Khajiit raised his arms dramatically. "What? I am going to be there! Like it or not!"

Averil shrugged. "I guess we'll have to invite him then."

Onmund nodded. "Yeah. Fine by me."

Brelyna was beginning to cry. "Ah, it's so fucking cute watching you two together."

Onmund blushed profusely while Averil threw her arms around his neck. "You're damn right it's cute" stated the Breton grinning at her.

Tolfdir left, since he sensed the direction it would go from here. At his encouragement, Mirabelle left too.

Corbett looked at them all and grinned. "I can see a bright future from you all. It gives me strength."

Averil dislodged her arms from Onmund and wrapped them around her mentor and friend.

This time, Corbett didn't hesitate. He hugged her tight and looked down at her. "I am so proud of you Averil. You were just a Dragonborn to me when we first met. But now you're my friend."

He let go of her and sighed. "I hate to leave, but there are people I need to talk to."

"Well I know you're busy. Being a 500 year old mage can do that."

He smiled. "Now good luck to you."

Then he disappeared in a blur of shadows.

"Oh, so that's why he's called Corbett the Black" muttered Brelyna.

"Yeah."

They all paused.

"So what now?" asked J'zargo.

Averil thought about it. "How about we all go for a drink?"

"Yeah, I could use one" muttered Onmund.

"I did feel a little thirsty" stated Brelyna.

"Sounds awesome to me" said J'zargo walking towards the closest drinks.

**Now don't pack up and leave yet. There's still a little bit more.**


	28. Chapter 28

**Now this is the chapter I wasn't going to add until now. And it rocks the house. So yeah.**

Averil was walking alongside Corbett, letting her black robe swish around her. She had taken a liking to the robes her newest master had given her, so she decided to keep it. Not the cape though. It was mostly overkill with her style of fighting.

"So if you are meeting with a representative from a private organization, and you find out he is no longer there, what do you do?" asked Corbett, her unofficial advisor.

"Uh, I leave a note and wait for his response" she replied unsure.

He nodded. "Good. Much better than your last response. Waiting for someone's return is considered clingy and rude to most officials."

"I guess."

They were discussing the various duties of the Arch-Mage she had inherited from Savos. Because the former leader ran off to some godforsaken ruin, she had to rely on her newest best friend.

She had been Arch-Mage for nearly three months. During that time she had done nothing but paperwork. It turns out that a good chunk of the job actually involved it. Enchanting contracts, mercenary work, bills, goddamn bills! In a building that had stood since the Second Era! Some people just didn't have respect for relics.

One thing he had encouraged was to keep in contact with the Jarls of Skyrim. This would give the College a better view from the outside and increase the income.

"Now, we still have something left to discuss" stated the Breton looking at him.

Corbett gave her a curious glance. "What is that?"

"I want to meet these friends of yours."

He stopped. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You're one person. If one of our enemies tried to take the information from you, they'd have access to anything you know. I'm sorry, but it isn't possible."

She huffed and he smiled. "I do have someone you can meet though."

Averil raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

His grin turned sinister. "The Dragonborn who started all of this."

They walked farther from the College, traveling near Dawnstar. It was getting dark and she feared that she would be caught in another blizzard.

"How far is he?" she asked wrapping her coat tighter.

"Not too far" replied the elder mage.

Suddenly, Onmund appeared as if from the very wind. In truth, he had mastered the art of speed.

"You gonna make me sleep alone tonight?" he asked jokingly wrapping his arms around her.

She kissed him on the mouth and smiled. "I might have to sweetie. I got important business to do."

"Well that's fine. I got things to do anyway."

He gave a devious grin. "Come back quick, or someone else may be in your place."

She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. "You couldn't get a date if you tried."

"Not many options out here!" he yelled chuckling.

Even then Corbett had a small grin on his face. He placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "We need to hurry before we freeze. Onmund, make sure you get back safe."

The young man nodded. "Take care of my darling, or I'll kill you."

"I have heard that so many times" muttered the elder mage.

Onmund backed up and twirled. His coat and body slowly disintegrated into snow and he utterly disappeared.

"That really is a cool trick" muttered Averil.

"He does aim to please" said Corbett walking farther along.

They continued walking and came to a large cave. It was fairly obvious, but didn't seem like a big deal. There were no markings or any symbols that this cave had ever seen signs of humanity.

"This the place?"

"Yep. It looks like nothing, but that's the point."

They walked inside and Averil was nearly blown over. The cave had a heat that was nearly unnatural. It felt like she had been encased in ice and then thrown into an oven.

"Holy shit" she muttered opening her coat.

"Yeah, he likes it warm" replied Corbett.

They moved deeper in the cave, noting the signs. Well, lack of signs really. There was not a single damn light in the place, or even an indication of ever having a light. No torches, no magical residue, no nothing. But somehow, the cave wasn't dark. It was as if some unknown light gave it brightness.

"What is this?" she asked looking for a light source.

"I am not sure. He doesn't explain."

They turned a corner and came into a large atrium. It was completely empty except for a large round table. It was huge, covering nearly ten feet in diameter and a foot thick. It was scratched and scrapped in dozens of places and looked well used. Various books and notes were spread across it haphazardly, like some important meeting had been interrupted. There was only one thing that was odd about this entire room.

At the very end of the table, opposite the entryway, was a throne. It was a relatively small throne, but it was definitely powerful. It had completely sharp and had no rounded angles on it. It was made of a colorless marble that appeared completely pure. Other than that, it had no other decorations.

Sitting in the throne was a man. He wasn't that large, possibly as tall as Averil, which is about five foot four. He wore a long black robe that cascaded to his feet like silk. He wore a huge hood that went down to where his eyebrows where. If they were visible that is.

On his face was a mask. It was completely blank and had no decorations at all. The only feature was a singular eye hole on the left side. It appeared to be made of some sort of wood, albeit a very smooth and rounded one. It was the mask the headmaster of the College of Whispers had worn.

The man looked up and a candle on the table lit up. It gave off a creepy glow across the room, trailing lines across the man's face. Then she noticed that he was not the headmaster. He was far shorter and not as strongly built.

"Hello Averil. Dragonborn of Hope. I have been expecting you."

He held up his left arm and something fell into it. It was a black book, the one Corbett had given her during their first meeting. The one she had never managed to open.

The man calmly opened it and flicked it to page one.

"Let us talk" he said looking at her with his blind eye.

**And yes my Editor, that was Him.**

**By the way, this story is over, but that doesn't mean there won't be more! Look on the forum for the latest updates and discuss whatever the hell you can think of about the story. Bye!**


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